To Love an Elven King
by Arwen Ravenwood
Summary: When a certain elf, king Thranduil, rules with a broken heart, he is cruel and feared by all, and it is not until the young Silvan elf, Aniyah, enters his stronghold, offering her services to pay for her father's crime, that things start to change. The strength and charm of her innocence, it stirs in him a hope to be happy again, while she in return sees the elf behind the beast.
1. Chapter 1

When it comes to the elves, the phrase once upon a time does suite them to a degree as they have lived through so many ages, that time loses its power and importance. What matters is that something did happen, that their years were eventful for some, and in this case, the life we look at, is that of a kings.

Deep in a forest, and beneath a hill where waters fall soundly, there was and still is a magnificent kingdom, one that was admired throughout the whole of middle earth, for it looked not to dominate nature with cold carven stone, but to coincide with its natural beauty.

Elegant and beautiful, it was known also for its humbling hospitality, as well as the fortune which favoured its lord, when keeping successful trade between him and his neighbouring races, from man to dwarf.

The mighty King Thranduil.

He had everything anyone could ever want from life.

happiness, compassion, the admiration of his people and above all, he had a beautiful wife.

However, as some things do, no matter how hard we try to stop it from happening, loss struck at the heart of King Thranduil personally, when on one fateful night his wife vanished, and with her gone, all that was good in Thranduil and his kingdom came to an end.

The happiness; the compassion and admiration…

Thranduil became an elf so filled with hate for himself and others, that he was incapable of the tenderness which once filled him, and so, his inability to love and be loved in return, turned him into a beast.

Not that I had known about his story, even after I became the elf I was, because as I had grown from child to woman, there was only ever one thing I had wanted to do with my life, and that was to travel like my father did and have my own adventures to tell.

My name you ask; my name is Aniyah.

And little did I know that my adventure was just about to begin.

...

Born a lowly Silvan elf, those of my kind and ranking were not as distinguished in the world as those like the Sindarin elves who were few. We instead had a fascination with the landscape, travelling far into the south, along the great river, until we returned and spread our number between the regions of the Misty Mountains and the Blue.

But at some point, we were bound to have one ruler or another, turning us into humble civilians, although some chose the life of a wanderer, as my father had generations later, before he met my mother.

Some of our kin belonged to Lorien, but my family and I lived in a small village if you would believe it, as such a notion seemed so human in way. Only it was truth, and on the outskirts of the Greenwood, we were surrounded by towering trees, which in the changing seasons would either shield us with a lush green, or rain down on the ground crisp autumn leaves.

The latter had always been my favourite, and still to this day I would lie on the grass letting them fall down on my body one by one…

"Aniyah!"

Hearing the call of my sister, I raised from my bed, rather reluctantly, and stared off into the distance. Some who shared my home and were getting on with their work, stared at me amused, laughing as Myrin was persistent with her summons.

"Aniyah, come here!"

Rolling my eyes, I could tell from her tone she was not best pleased with me, and from the chuckling I heard from others, so did they know too.

"my goodness, what have you done now child," a villager teased, towing along some rich chestnut horses we bred.

As one of the beasts passed, I ran my hand along its silk coat throwing behind my back, "I'm not sure, but your guess is as good as mine."

That earned a laugh, and I smiled the entire distance to my house where Myrin was waiting impatiently at the door, tapping her foot in annoyance.

"I'm glad you have graced me with your presence" she started, and sucked in a breath preparing for the rest of the lecture, "what did I ask you to do this morning?"

I thought about it, looking anywhere but in her accusing brown eyes, but it was so easy for me to get distracted.

"Aniyah!"

The sound of my name snapped me back to attention, where my sister's pale complexion was burning, "the washing. I had asked that you do the washing."

"oh," that was all I could say as I began remembering her asking me. If I recall correctly, she had even sat the basket beside our bedroom door, so that I would pick it up on my way out.

The anger had dissipated some when she spoke next, letting me pass into the house, "what was so important that you would forget?"

Wandering to the table, I picked up an apple Myrin had sitting in a bowl which she must have picked and I felt guilty for all the work she did, and has done since our mother died.

"truthfully, I don't have an answer you would be satisfied with. I did just forget," I shrugged, taking a bite from the fruit.

With her honeyed hair still gleaming, when the sun could not even touch it from the roof, Myrin took a strand and began to play with it.

"the call of the wild," she started, "that's what mother used to say, after she would wake up and find you gone."

I had known mention of our mother was approaching because it was a habit of Myrin's to play with her hair beforehand, which was the same shade as hers and was often commented on for its likeness.

It was her hair she touched, because her face although beautiful, was not our mothers. Instead, her features came from our father, who had a strong and defined bone structure, which to me made her look regal, but they had never pleased her. Myrin wanted more than our mother's hair, and had once admitted that with regret, she has cursed me for my soft and delicate features, including my eyes, which were as open and as round as a doe's. I did not share in having rich gold tresses, however. Like my father, my hair couldn't decide what colour it wanted to.

Did it want to be brown, or red, or black…

Either way I did not care for how I looked, only that I was true to who I was on the inside, and I wished that was the same for my sister, who I loved dearly.

I did not say anything that whole time, and allowed Myrin to go on with her memory at her own pace, "she never panicked neither. You were young yes, but she trusted you not to be foolish and to make every jump you might make and reach the top of every tree you might climb. And I find that despite myself, beneath the anger, when I too see you are nowhere to be found, I have the same trust."

I was surprised by that and smiled, "well, it wouldn't have killed you to mention that before now."

"I didn't want it to go to your head, and I still don't," she laughed and walked off to our room to retrieve the basket and rest it down in front of me.

"now, are you going to do what I have asked?"

She raised a brow at me and I deliberated, pursing my lips and unfortunately for her, I happened to capture a glimpse of my bow and arrows hanging on their hook.

Swiftly I bounded passed Myrin and grabbed them, "how does my hunting us down some dinner sound instead; that's helping surely."

"not in the way that I mean" she protested returning to the door frame, watching as I ran farther away, "Aniyah!"

It was no use; I would not have stopped now that I had entered the forest, no matter how loud she shouted.

'the call of the wild,' I knew exactly what my mother had meant, and it will always be louder than Myrin could ever hope to be, and thus, it would forever have my ear.

…..

Filling my nose with the earthy scents which filled the forest, this was a world all of my own where I could never truly be alone, although it seemed that way. There were sounds of animals here, watching me where I could not see them I was sure, but I knew their breath, the same as the tall trees, reminding me that everywhere there was life, even in the darkest places that others might fear to venture, but I embrace.

To me the forest was far more welcoming than any city could be. There is pain there and lies to be told, something which I wanted no part of and have dreamed of the day that my father would take me along on one of his adventures.

As I have mentioned before, my father, Elyan, had been a wanderer, but it was when he had met and fell in love with my mother that he gave all that up for her, breeding horses with the rest of the men in the village. However, he was restless with being fixed in one place and earned to take the paths he had travelled to the highest mountains again, or wherever else they might lead, and wanting him to be happy, my mother granted him the gift of giving in to his temptation when he wanted, and he has carried on doing so still after her passing.

It put a strain on us of course. Being a wanderer didn't bring any money into the house, and without money we could not pay for food, since beyond harvesting fruit, Myrin and I did not know any other skill like baking, which is why I resorted to hunting, except it was not regarded as hunting in this forest; it was poaching.

By taking down an animal to feed my family, I was breaking our monarchs law, as if it wasn't hard enough already that I was killing a poor creature.

Frustrated, I pushed my cares aside and ran over rock and stone without effort to be silent as we elves were extremely light on our feet, and when I came to a stop, I was quick to draw an arrow and take aim for anything that could still be lurking around, having not sensed my presence yet.

I groaned when there wasn't and lowered my weapon, preventing myself from childishly kicking the dirt, although I felt like doing it.

Distracted, a twig breaking off in the distance surprised me and with new confidence, I slowly made my way towards it, crouched down low.

The nearer I came, the more the snap was accompanied by some rustling and as it continued, I began regaining my optimism that I would cook a grand meal for Myrin tonight, as my apology for not doing my share of chores. Hopefully, I thought it might keep her off my back for a while if her belly was full, but as I came onto the spot where I had heard all the sure signs of life, there was nothing to found.

"what," I moaned aloud, not bothering to stop myself this time when I kicked a stone into a stream, that cut through the earth with a splash.

Perhaps if I were able to track I wouldn't be so disappointed, but of course I didn't and there was no use dwelling on it. In fact, there was no point in hunting anymore, and just as I was about to give up and turn back home, so did a figure appear out of the bushes.

"papa?"

With my mouth hanging open, I was too stunned to move at first, and then from missing him so much, the urge came and I rushed into his arms.

I hit him with some force and he groaned painfully causing me to pull back and get a proper look at him.

"Papa, what's wrong?"

I asked when I didn't need to. His skin, it was bruised beneath the dirt and his hand went to cradle his ribs, which must have been reason for his groan when he flinched, though he was barely touching them.

"Papa," I probed again with a whisper, "who did this to you?"


	2. Chapter 2

Struggling to walk, I had offered my father the support of my shoulder. He was hesitant, but I assured him that I was stronger than I looked, which was partially the case, until we got closer to the house, because then I will admit, I was struggling alongside him.

Myrin, she had her hands buried in the wash basin, wearing a sharp scowl as we came into the village and she caught a glance of me waving. Doubting first that it was us, she then proceeded to run when she realised that no one else in the village had family members quite as troubling as her own.

"what happened!" she hissed, her eyes wide and demanding.

"I've already asked, and he wouldn't say," we spoke as if father wasn't there, "Myrin we need to get him inside."

She nodded, swinging her hair behind her back so it wouldn't get in the way, and slowly replaced me in keeping our father up from the ground.

"okay," Myrin huffed, "I don't think there's anyone out to witness this spectacle, but you go on ahead Aniyah and get the door, ready for us."

I did as she bade, with a quicker pace to my walk than was normal and when I reached the door, I signalled to my sister to follow after me.

She did not bother herself in checking that no one was around. With her gaze fixed on me, Myrin powered across the grass gardens, like my father was no burden to her at all, and when she was close, only then did I open the door.

My grip was still on the handle when they passed, and just as quickly as I had opened the door, I closed it again, keeping our business our own.

Inside, my father did not hold back on expressing the extent of his pain and he groaned more fiercely than he did in the forest.

"if you could pour a cup of water for him Aniyah, I will take father to his bed. There is a pitcher full on the table, hurry now."

My sister knew that if I had followed them I would have fretted over our father and be in her way, so she distracted me with this meagre task. I couldn't say that I minded, because it was true. I was beside myself with worry and Myrin's nerves were of a harder steel than mine.

She could do what I could not, so when I saw what she had meant, I grabbed a clean cup from the cupboard and began to pour the water. In my worry, my hands did shake a bit and I missed my target more than once, which justified why I was of no use to Myrin. I grimaced at the mess, deciding to use my skirt to soak up the moisture and save my father from having his blanket sodden, although there was a perfectly good cloth right next to me. But rational thinking was beyond me now.

"Aniyah, hurry."

Rushing across the wood floor, I entered the room where my father was secured by plumped pillows, unable to lie down properly; He looked so helpless.

I knew he did not want my pity, and I carried the cup to his beside, perching on the edge and letting him take his fill. He must have needed it, but each time he swallowed, he winced and did not bother to ask for another cup.

"A few of his ribs are broken," Myrin said, down on her knees with his hand in hers.

I suspected as much and sighed, the same as my sister, not saying a word. We just waited on the explanation we were owed, and would not leave without. But our father was stubborn and years of knowing his defiant nature allowed us to figure out what it took to break him.

A repetitive sound, in a small space, where all he wanted was silence.

The chair Myrin sat on, was an old rocking chair. Slow and deliberate, she put it into motion and it creaked and creaked, to the point where I had to clamp my lips down to keep from laughing, and her as well, the more she continued the screeching.

I did not have her chair, but I did have an empty and hollowed cup in hand, which I tapped on the side of, creating a tune that was none too rhythmic.

Those two together, and my father's chest rose and it fell sharper with his frustration, until finally he opened his eyes and glared at his daughters.

"I warn you Elyan the Wanderer; we are not going to stop," Myrin informed, her expression cool and composed.

Our father, he was not as mad as he would have liked, to put his daughters in their place, wilful as they were, and he began to softly laugh at our antics, cautious of his pains.

"no," he rasped, "I don't suppose you would stop."

Resting his head back, his wavy hair had come loose from its tie, and he stared up at the ceiling. To me this was not a good sign, because our father could not talk to someone unless he looked them straight in the eye. He was ashamed of something, and I hoped it was not his injuries, because the shame was not his to bear, but the inflictors.

"I was so close to home," he began, "a day's walk, no more. Except, I had been gone for so long and with nothing to show for it, because I simply wished to be alone, as selfish as it may appear, seeing as it was the anniversary of your mother and I's wedding day. So I decided I would bring back a gift of a hearty meal, as I did not imagine you girls had eaten anything but the potatoes we grew, and it just so happened that there were the tracks of a stag in the dirt, so I chased after them. It led me in quite a merry dance, but that only made me more determined, and my arrow was drawn, ready to be released when the chance presented itself; and present itself it did. I heard its deep gruff breath, betraying its location to me and without pause for thought, my arrow sailed through the air, and when it hit, so did the beast cry."

Our father stopped and swallowed back the lump which had formed in his throat.

"when I pushed through the shrubs, the stupid grin I wore, it died immediately at the beast sprawled on the ground bleeding. It was a white stag and no sooner did I wretch at what I had done, did the royal guard descend down upon me. I let them take me in their custody, and I knew where it was they were taking me. A white stag my daughters; such a grave crime is this…"

He was not wrong. A white stag was a pure and graceful animal, which we elves prized and swore no ill will. It was sacred almost and we could hardly be surprised that the Greenwood's royal guard had arrested him, only that they released him, as terrible as it sounds to think such a thing about your father.

"and then what happened?" I asked, my voice meek.

"I was presented to the king," he said plainly.

"the king," Myrin gasped, scared suddenly, "what did he do?"

The answer was obvious, and our father held out his hands slightly to indicate his whole body.

"I have never seen a man so angry and I welcomed it for what I had done, wishing the blows to be harder and more brutal. Then in the midst of all that, the king asked me, out of nowhere, if I had any children. I just looked up at him on his throne and nodded."

Confusion touched my brow, "why did he want to know if you had children papa?" and Myrin wanted to know also, as this concerned her too.

"papa?" she shook his hand when he delayed responding, but it was with good reason that he did, and his silence made my blood run cold, as if I knew what he was going to say next.

"He said," his voice was shaking, "that I had robbed the forest of a beloved son; so in return, I would be robbed of a beloved _daughter_."

I closed my eyes and lowered my head as the tears trickled past my cheeks. My display of emotion was not as apparent as Myrin's, who flung our fathers hand aside as if it had burned her.

"robbed of a beloved daughter; What does that mean," she screeched, "does it mean he wishes to _kill_ one of us?"

"a life for a life," I choked, and Myrin glared at me disgusted wanting to bite back at my crude statement, but father stopped her.

"King Thranduil allowed me to return and tell you both this," he explained, shaking with the effort to speak, now that his anger was making his chest rise and fall rapidly, "And come morrow, his guards shall be waiting to escort one of you back to his stronghold. But neither of you shall meet them. Rest assured, I will go in your stead, and you my love's, you will have to leave this village, less they capture you."

Where I was thinking of my father, Myrin ran out of the room, as a stroked the side of his face to calm him.

"don't fret about me Aniyah" he coughed, "Your sister needs you more than I do."

I did not want to leave him alone, but he ushered me to go and gazing back at him, I could have wept from the look that he wore, like it was the last time he was ever going to see me.

I have always perceived my father to be strong, and to be invincible; even when my mother passed, he chose to celebrate and commemorate her life rather than mourn. Now however, he was broken in more ways than one.

"Go," he mouthed.

Leaving the room, my sister and I shared the one next to it and I found Myrin there with her face pressed into the covers of the nearest bed, so that they muffled her hysteria.

She must have sensed me coming in because she cried, "Go away, Aniyah. Just leave me alone!"

I didn't, I just pressed on further and lay my hand on her back, never being one to do as I am told.

"leave me in peace, please!"

How sad it was to hear her cry like this, as she might have done as a girl.

"don't do this Myrin; calm yourself," I cooed, "not everything is lost," mimicking how she used to comfort me when I had been upset, only she was not receptive to my touch and optimism.

"you do not know what you are talking about!" she yelled prompting herself up, "Aniyah I am about to lose my life, even if father forsakes himself on our behalf."

I could hardly recognise Myrin. Her face was red and tear streaked, her eyes were swollen and her lips thin, "what do you mean?"

"Garrick," she admitted.

I nodded, understanding that she and him were affectionate with one another.

"he has asked me to marry him."

If circumstances had been different, I would have leapt up high with gladness, as I have always said that she and the stable boy were meant for each other, after years of witnessing one give the other an adoring smile and a compliment they maybe did not want me to hear.

"and I want to Aniyah. I love him too much not to be his wife."

The profound weight of the change in her story, made Myrin crumble and I did nothing to ease her sorrow. For however how long, my sister cried into the crook of my neck, holding onto me tightly and then exhaustion enslaved Myrin and nothing would wake her, as I rested her head down.

The light outside our window was black. Night had come to end the day and tomorrow was fast approaching.

Sucking in a breath I left Myrin alone to rest and checked on my father. He too was silent, but only in slumber; and it was just me.

I wandered, realising I had not had the opportunity to reveal how I felt when I was busy tending to my family.

My father was to be executed.

My sister and I were to leave the only home we had ever known.

And Myrin would surely resent our father for his mistake, which had cost her from creating a family of her own.

But it was not Elyan that she should blame.

Instead, that honour should be bestowed upon the elven king; Thranduil.

Evil and heartless, how could another being ask that a father sacrifice their child. It was monstrous, barbaric; and it was not the way of the elves.

Sitting down at the table, I recalled of how I have dreamed of travelling like my father someday and become a wanderer. This year father had promised for my Birthday that it would be his gift, to take me on a journey. I wondered if he remembered.

Either way, I decided for myself then and there while the candle I lit burnt out, that indeed I was to go on a journey. A journey that would save my family, even if it meant my death.

But for them, I did so gladly.

And before the sun could rise, I left, with only one regret.

That I didn't get the chance to say goodbye.


	3. Chapter 3

The clouds were warming with the break of dawn, and I had been walking along the only path I knew which headed in the direction of the stronghold. I travelled lightly; not a bag to carry or a cloak to deter the breeze. What point was there when I was a dead woman walking. The thought made my stomach turn, but I had to remind myself who I was making this sacrifice for, because how I was feeling now could not compare with how I might have done, if it was my father who was killed, and my sister who was forced to abandon her chance at happiness.

This sacrifice was made out of love for them, and I would die a thousand times more if I had to, to keep them safe.

Besides, forever does seem like an awful long time to live…

My attempt at making a joke from the situation did not have the desired effect.

I was afraid, and I could not deny it any longer, not when I have always been told that fear is the first step to bravery. So it is best to be felt and dealt with, rather than buried deep because of shame for seeming weak.

It wasn't that I was afraid to die.

What I was afraid of, was missing out on everything.

There was so much I had wanted to do; so much dreaming I had done.

And now, I wouldn't be able to realise any of it.

Taking a seat between two great roots, I felt safe for a moment cradled there, and I gazed up at how high the tree had grown, reaching for the sky. It was admirable how it stood by itself, like I had wanted, dependant and strong like a wanderer.

But the only sure thing in this world is that things don't often go the way we planned. But with this tree against my back, I didn't even fathom abandoning on what I was willing to do, even as my dreams became undone.

I knew that I would rise up and stand, filled with spirit and with pride.

I am more than what my dreams could ever had shaped me to be; dependant and strong yes, I would restore my family's honour, by meeting my fate with courage, something no one could destroy; not even King Thranduil.

Suddenly, before I could register what was happening, my serenity was interrupted, by my being surrounded by the royal guard.

like spiders suspended on their silken thread, they lowered themselves down from the forests canopy, with armour like leaves or dragon scale, which rippled with their agile movements and yet when they were still, as was the beautiful chainmail.

Faceless, with their large and pointed hoods drawn, I could not decipher who it was that spoke.

"who are you, and why are you in the King's wood?"

Looking at them, I believed that these elves were the guard, which my father had said would have come to collect either myself or Myrin. I was relieved that we did not pass each other by. Knowing my father, even with my being gone, he would have still gone through with giving himself up to them.

"I am Aniyah, daughter of Elyan the Wanderer. I am here to pay his debt."

I received no reply, but the one at the head of the group signalled to two others, and they hoisted me from my tree. I had expected chains, but there weren't any. The guards, they encased me within their bodies and then led on.

I walked, they marched, and too soon the music of the forest was drowned out by something mightier. Tumbling down the rocky hillside, what few trees there were contorted and tried to catch the running water, but instead the wood only cut it into separate streams, roaring as they plunged into the pools below.

When the company drew closer, our way to the gates of this stronghold was pathed by a pale marbled bridge, which was thick with the waters vapour, and it hit me as soon as I had taken that first step, swapping dirt for this more solid material.

Tall and misty blue, a horn blew tunefully and at once, whoever manned this entryway proceeded to open the gates, and I tipped myself up onto my toes to catch a glimpse of what lay beyond the caverns mouth, and gasped.

Inside, the darkness was defeated by a rich golden torch light, emanating from one side of the cavernous halls to the other, and we strode on paths which twisted and crossed, like the bend of a river, rather than being blunt with their construction. Though we were on the top level, this stronghold was not so deep underground as I would have imagined, and everything was supported by pillars hewn from the living stone.

"it is beautiful here," I whispered, and without my meaning to, my voice echoed around for all to hear, but still no one would acknowledge that I had spoken.

When at last the guard spun away to reveal my standing centre, in a wide open platform, I had view of the whole of the stronghold, and as glorious as the view was, it still would not have compared to the elf that beat my height upon a staircase, which ended with a throne of carven wood. Immediately, my eyes lifted up to the feline figure sprawled on the chair.

"so you are the Wanderer's daughter."

His long hair was a pure silver, blonde brushed behind his pointed ears, which themselves supported a sharp crown, adorned with no jewels, but an assortment of red berries and leaves that appeared finer because of that. His black eyebrows arched, they were a contrast to his hair, and eyes, which were a piercing blue and had quite the unnerving quality to them, not because of their brightness, but because of the arrogance which lingered in their depths.

Hardly gangly, he was long and he was elegant, wearing a shimmering green robe with an open collar. I could not have taken this man to be none other, than the elven king, Thranduil.

"and indeed, you are only a child."

Affronted, I spoke before I could think and reacted on impulse after years of enduring my sister and father using that word like a branding iron on my forehead.

"I am not a child!"

True, I was the last elf born to my village, as infants of our race are so rare, but I have lived many lifetimes which have seen mortal men grow and die with the wisdom they have accumulated, thus I have more.

I was not stupid or dependant on another. I had a voice, I had a soul, and I had purpose.

That hardly made me a child.

For my insolence, king Thranduil's smug grin disappeared and it transformed the glint in his eye, into something threatening. I clutched my hands, realising that I had angered him, and the king swung around to rest his elbows on his knees, noticing them.

"show me your hands," he commanded.

Curiously, my gaze flickered towards them and I did as he asked, with my palms facing upwards.

Those eyes, even if my back was turned I would know if they were watching me. It was like his stare had talons enclosing me in their grasp and despite myself, I trembled, convincing myself that it wasn't the king causing the slight tremors, but how long he kept me holding them up.

"these hands," he finally said, ending the silence, "have not known hard work or labour."

Confused, I gazed at the smooth skin, rubbing together my fingertips, "what does that have to do with anything?"

Swiping away the creases that were not there in his robes, the elven king angled his head, like it was he who were the defiant child. Not that he would perhaps appreciate my calling him thus.

"I would rather," he snapped, "that my servants know what they are doing, when they come under my services."

For a moment, meaningless questions that had no end passed through my lips, while my mind felt as if it was being pulled in another direction.

 ** _'_** ** _what…'_**

 ** _'_** ** _but I thought…'_**

 ** _'_** ** _I don't understand…'_**

My body was stiff. I felt cold, "you mean to say, that you are not going to kill me?"

"kill you," Thranduil laughed, amused, "is that what you thought my intention was?"

With everything I was feeling, I did not enjoy becoming a spectacle for his ridicule, I defended myself by stating the facts.

"Elyan killed a white stag-"

The king's expression cooled, "and his blood was spilt in return, and I have taken from him a beloved daughter. Justice," he emphasized the word, "is done where I am concerned."

I mulled over what he had said, and tasted the word in my mouth, "…servant."

It was a far cry from being the victim of an execution, and I wanted for the earth to crack open and swallow me whole, knowing this would be seared in my memory for as long as I lived, which would now be for a very long time…

the earth didn't open, but my knees buckled and I collapsed down in any case, laughing, completely relieved.

"and I was ready to die!" I proclaimed, my shoulders buckling, when the laughter began evolving into a cry, "To sacrifice myself to spare my sister and father."

These unscathed hands, if I thought they were shaking before, I was wrong. I could not control them and they cradled my face, which was hot to the touch.

At some point, the king had risen from his throne and descended the stair case. He loomed over me. Watching me with piqued curiosity, as if I were some strange, wounded animal he had never come across before, and I wanted to scream at him that unlike my elven kin, others were capable of emotion, rather than maintaining the apathetic attitude those like himself possessed.

"you believed I was going to kill you, and yet, you came willingly to my stronghold?"

I cleared my throat and returned his gaze with a watery one of my own, "yes," was my answer, and he grunted.

"you cannot be Elyan's daughter. He was so insignificant, that I find it was no coincidence that he brought shame to his family."

circling around me, like a predator teasing its victim, with his arms behind his back, He spoke again.

"I could dare to have another explanation for you. Perhaps your mother."

King Thranduil took a step further with his act of intimidation. Before I could see him appear on my right, my cheeks were within his grasp, and smothering my mouth some. I in my panic gasped what air I could, and his ever so slight smile was more cynical than his widest grin had been.

"Maybe during one of his travels," he continued with his vile claim, "she might have taken another to her bed-"

Breaking the hold he had over me, I whipped my chin back from the king's grasp before he could finish his sentence. And in the most un-elven like behaviour, I made a sound that could resemble closely, someone spitting, aiming my spouting mouth to the toe of Thranduil's boots. His features hardened, but I did not care for his authority over me, and I did not dare to cower and I made that perfectly clear when his wish to instil fear failed to rid me of my courage's prowess.

Thranduil laughed, although it lacked his earlier pleasure and he strode back to the staircase which would lead him to his throne. His safety net, to catch him when he thought bested. I pitied him for finding comfort in something so cold, and materialistic.

"Aniyah daughter of the wanderer, my bargain is that you remain within these walls. Never to step out into the sun again. I wonder, are you still willing to make that sacrifice, now that you know it is not so fatal?"

Raising my head, I knew my answer had not changed, because the people on who I was acting on behalf of, though they did not know or might accept it, were depending on me, so that my father could keep his wings stretched to reach new horizons, and my sister…

Myrin, I have cheated her out of so much, since she was forced to raise me after our mother's death. Beyond housekeeper and guardian, I did not think she knew who she truly was.

To go from dreamer to servant, I could give her the freedom now to discover herself.

In that, I had not lost my willingness.

In thought, my silence was mistaken for apprehension and the king's stare ensnared me once more.

"you try my patience girl," Thranduil growled.

Biting my tongue, I prevented my hissing _'_ _Beast'_ at the elf, as he had demonstrated to be nothing else, behind that ethereal exterior, from wanting to take command and ownership over my life, when no person with a conscience would. Among my kind, I did not think we were capable of such cruelty. Only, King Thranduil was the exception to that idea; and that was not a good thing.

I knew now never to expect anything different and residing to my circumstances, I rose to stand on my feet again covering my heart as I made my vow.

"then you have my word. I will not leave this place. I shall remain in your service"

His crystal eyes gleamed triumphantly, but I soured them when I added, "until the day you find it in yourself to release me, my Lord."

 **…** **.**

 **Thank you so much for your kind reviews** **J** **xxx**


	4. Chapter 4

' _until the day you find it in yourself to release me.'_

That is what I said, with the king making no reply, other than a calculative look.

Those with cruelty are sometimes astounded when presented with opportunity to better themselves, and in this case with Thranduil, it appeared to take the effect of being more of an insult. He waved dismissively, like he could conjure me away in that instant, and in his own mind it worked because his ignorance would make it so that he could not see or hear me standing with complaint on what to do. Luckily, another had been summoned to fetch me from the platform and he cleared his throat to capture my attention.

"if you would follow me."

With immortality on our side, we elves were favoured physically by youth, however, as the centuries come and go and we experienced age mentally, the appearance too became more of a re-freshened glow. Although, it hardly robbed those elves of appeal. To the man before me, he was one to follow in the line of such as I had described.

Hair cut blunt to his chin, uniformed in various textured cloths to put the autumn season to shame, he stood shorter than most elven men, but with his impeccable posture, I supposed he would cast just as great of a shadow, above those who were more to his station.

Glad to get away from Thranduil, I did not hesitate to abide to his will. Even if the destination were Mordor, I would have still had this reaction, since it meant I would be led far away from this spoilt king, to whose company I had endured long enough to last me for a very long while indeed. I reckoned a century or more would do at least.

"first I shall escort you to your room," the elf informed me, looking straight on so I had nothing to look at apart from the back of his golden head.

"Take careful note on how to get there, because I am not in the habit of repeating myself; and the same will go for your chores, once I give them to you."

The word made me cringe the same as it did when Myrin spoke it, and I shook away the initial reaction, knowing that they were to be what my days would consist of from now on, without any sisters to lumber the work load on. Still, while he wasn't paying me any heed, I allowed myself this moment to portray my pure and utter dismay, silently howling my revolt to the ceiling, knowing Thranduil would not accept a huntress, and I stopped dead in my tracks.

"my bow…" I murmured, clenching my fists as if my fingers could feel the weapon's silhouette.

"what was that?" the elf asked.

I ignored him and my shoulders slumped with being parted from my inheritance. The leather grasp in my hand, the perfect curves straightening as I drew the string, which my father had convinced me was the hair of a great lady much like Galadriel. It was not true of course, but the story he tried to justify the claim with was a favourite of mine, and when I reached a hundred years, I celebrated my coming of age by carving a cluster of leaves on the smooth polished wood, to make the weapon feel more like my own. It was an extension of my arm, something that set me apart from the rest of the women in my village, and my skill with the bow, was something I was not ashamed to say I was proud of.

I hardly ever went a day without using it, and with regret I said, "it's nothing. I've just realized that I have another change to adjust to. Something else to miss."

The elf was sympathetic, coming to walk by my side and I smiled as we carried on, appreciating the small gesture of civility, when everyone else I had encountered thus far, had made it their point to degrade me to a lower standing than them. The king above the girl he had made a servant, and the guards a captive as they took me under their custody.

If it made me seem naïve, I didn't care. I wanted a friend. I wanted someone to talk to. And I didn't know where better to start, than by asking, "what is your name?"

quirking a brow, the elf opened his mouth and then closed it again, settling me with a grunt.

"Don't be like that," I touched his arm, to express my sincerity, "If we are going to work and live under the same roof. I want to at least know you."

He considered my reasoning, and assuring that no one was watching him engaging in conversation with the new girl, he gave name to his face.

"you may call me Orist."

He inclined his head some and his blunt hair tipped forwards, not bearing the thought of being parted from Orist's chin, like another force was managing the locks for him, kept fixed by a silver circlet. He was very much an elf who took pride in his appearance and would settle for no less than perfection, and that worried me since I didn't think any effort of mine, in working, would meet to his high standards. Even now while he was speaking to me, he was also inspecting the area for the slightest fault in presentation. But he needn't be so critical, because despite who ruled this place, the stronghold was magnificent, and it made me wonder how one could be so bitter, when he had so much to be grateful for, all around him.

I refused to believe that elves could be born with an attitude like Thranduil's. Something had to have triggered it. I peered over from where Orist and I had come from, though of course any glimmer of the king I caught was futile.

What was Thranduil's story, I wondered.

I hummed with deliberation and did not come up with much, and I was tempted to ask Orist, but I resisted from pushing my luck, by being so bold and impertinent. Perhaps slowly, things might enfold for me to learn who it is that holds my chains.

"come along now child," Orist ushered and we spiralled down to the servant's quarters.

My room, so I was told, was right at the end, with the rest of the women. Orist, before heading to the kitchens and pointing their direction out to me beforehand, let me venture what was to be my new sanctuary alone, abiding to the rules of segregation between sexes, on the terms that I be quick to change into the clothes he had prepared, which were to be my uniform. After that, I was to find him again, and so it would all begin.

Sighing, I passed the rooms that had already been assigned to their inhabitants and without preparation, I entered through the door and clicked it shut behind me, making the last one mine. I didn't move. I remained standing where I had come through and flicked my gaze from one wall to the other, managing to examine the integrity of the whole room in that singular moment.

Orist had warned me that the room was small, and until me, that is why it remained unoccupied. The ceiling, dropping at an odd angle, it did not make for much space to wander at full height, so I took two steps, and getting a hold on the solitary bed, I reorganised things, and pushed it to fill that inconvenient space, scraping it across the wood floor. I was a little out of breath by the time that was done, but with the bed being where it was now, I too had to move the wardrobe. I was glad that a couple of inches to the left would do it right, so that I could open the door without hitting the bedframe, as any further would have proven to be a greater strain than the bed. After a couple of grunts and groans, there was a small improvement and I threw myself down onto the mattress.

It was a good thing I wouldn't have to share this room, like I did back home with Myrin. If she were here I could imagine Orist would be having an ear full by now about how tiny the space was, only I didn't care for that. It was just somewhere to sleep and to think for me and as long I was able to do those things, nothing else mattered. I suppose that is why we never argued, as siblings might have when it came to space. Myrin's possessions would be scattered everywhere; her flute, dresses, sowing kit and paints. She had many talents and hobbies she took pleasure in and because they brought her joy, I didn't stop her from cluttering up our room with them.

Somehow the order in here seemed off to me, and I didn't think anyone would appreciate me messing it up just to feel more at home. So I compromised. Slipping off my dress, there was mud encrusted along the hem and my boots were more than worn at the bottom from running. I went through more clothes than the average young boy, fighting dragons and orcs, and returned home muddier than they would too, and after the fourth dress I tore, Myrin didn't bother crafting a new one for me to wear. Instead, she resorted to covering the holes and rips with spare fabrics she found in her basket, and it had gotten to the point where today, you could not tell which was the original material the dress had been made from.

With nothing on, I laughed at the dress pooled around my feet, and left it lying there as I grabbed the wash cloth folded beside a glass bowl, steaming with water, which I was thankful someone had prepared for me.

With my peasant dress and a healthy coating of dirt where my skin was visible, I must have been quite the site for King Thranduil, as I was not the elf he was probably used to receiving before his throne. There were leaves and twigs in my hair too, but compared with his crown, I don't suppose they carried the same charm.

The water I soaked my limbs with, was scented like wildflowers and after I patted myself dry the pleasant scent lingered on my skin like perfume, and managed to somehow emanate through my uniform, which I had found hanging in the wardrobe.

Dark like forest moss, the first item of clothing was a thin silk that ended a little above my knees to show off the leather boots I had to replace the old, and atop was the thick velvet overcoat, which was heavier and longer than the underdress, having a minor train at the back. Clasping it in place with an antlered brooch, it fit my figure perfectly and was finer than anything I had ever worn before, even if they were servant's clothes, and the colour complimented my own bright green irises.

Looking at my reflection in the floor length mirror, there was only my hair to do next and I hesitated, not knowing what to do besides comb it. Under the light of the candles fire, my chestnut hair, was favouring a redder tone, and I settled with sectioning off pieces from both sides of my head to braid, revealing my face, and pointed ears, while the rest of my thick waves fell freely about my shoulders.

This was not a version of Aniyah I could say I recognised. She looked entirely different to the woman who first walked in, but I took light that I still had my spirit and she was there in the glint of my eye, hoping that no one tried to break her.

Coming out into the corridor again, I did as Orist asked and went to go meet him in the kitchens. He had said where to go, but he need not have judging by the shouting going on. One of the voices I heard was definitely his and the other female, and taking the marble steps in my stride, so was the composed Orist ruining his pale complexion, as he glared angrily at his rival.

Her Black hair bound tightly in a bun, her uniform was white and simpler than mine, as was her body curvier for an elf, with lembas dough beneath her knuckles. As soon as I appeared, she fixed me on the spot with her steel gaze, which could cut sharper than any sword.

"is this the girl?" the woman snapped.

Orist let go of the hard table he was gripping tightly to restrain himself, and came over to lay a supportive hand on my shoulder.

"Reave, this is Aniyah."

My mouth twitched in an attempt to smile, but she practically growled as a response and I tensed. This Reave was quite a daunting figure, and I found that she could teach King Thranduil a thing or two about how intimidation is really achieved, rather than just being an arrogant pest.

"that's all well and good, but what am I supposed to do with her?"

She pointed an accusing, flour dusted, finger at me and I flinched. For mercy's sake, Orist wasn't prepared to stand by while one of his staff behaved towards me thus, and his one hand, turned to two on either side of my shoulders, as he shielded and defended me.

"under King Thranduil's orders," he started, "Aniyah is to be a maidservant."

"a maidservant" Reave scoffed, lifting the dough and pounding it back down on the hard surface, grinding her hands into the plump mixture, "is that so. Tell me girl, can you cook?"

I watched how she knew what to do, moving swiftly onto changing approaches with the dough and becoming gentle, folding the layers in on themselves repeatedly, and I shook my head. Less it was something roasting over a campfire, no I did not know how to cook.

"embroider?"

I stayed silent.

"would it be quicker to list the things you can do rather than can't?"

"I can learn," I admitted, with a bit more bite than I had intended.

I could feel Orist's smile when Reave's grey eyes widened at my response.

"that's all we can expect from the girl. Commitment, and a want to do some good here. Have a heart Reave, a day ago and she was nothing more than a carefree villager. Now she's stuck here, like the rest of us."

The woman must have had some compassion after all, because she softened and relaxed her gaze towards me.

"Well, I suppose there is the wine cellar; Aniyah" she emphasized my name, with her first time using it since we had met, "she could do us all the favour and organise that at least."

Clapping his hands above my head, Orist proclaimed "excellent!"

However, his joy was cut short when another servant came down the steps in a hurry. Everyone, including me, turned to see the young elf, trying to catch her breath, but she looked directly at Orist.

"what is it Myka?"

Clutching her chest, the girl heaved, "Orist, there is something happening at the gates. Someone shouting."

Orist looked confused.

"I believe," she said, "that it is the same elf the king had punished. The one who killed the white stag…Elyan the Wanderer."

At hearing my father's name, my blood ran cold.

"Papa?"

…

 **Thank you for your reviews and support xxx**


	5. Chapter 5

High atop his throne, lay the wilting rose, whose petals dusted the ground far below. Bowed and broken, the leaves like hands, cradled the bud of the poor bloom as it hung helplessly over the edge, staring cold and hard at the void which had swallowed his kingdom whole, until there was an emptiness in his eyes. The flower discouraged sustenance in rain and sun. Instead, it had replaced the two, with wine as his nectar, as it allowed him to feel, just something inside of him. However, those feelings were not all together good, since the rose, still had his thorns, which cut those who came to close.

the wanderer's daughter; Thranduil had treated the girl no different, when she stood a perfect target to make bleed.

Only, she did not respond to him as others have done before her.

His touch upon her flawless skin, it did not prick her to drain the courage she carried within, like he could usually feel and see happen with so many others. If anything, he had fuelled the fire burning in her spirit, and she was able to repel his intent.

Was the king too proud to admit that he was impressed. Strictly in his head and not aloud, he thought not. In fact, he was strangely curious, making for his empty sight to morph into her image.

Aniyah.

That was her name, with those piercing green eyes which were enchanting even in anger, as Thranduil had seen that there was an innocence there, radiating from her heart. Her purity he had mistaken for juvenility, but now, he was somehow unsure, if an essence like Aniyah's called for being regarded as foolish like he had initially thought himself.

In his wonder, King Thranduil now had more a taste for his maidservant, than he did the excellent wine filling his goblet, and carelessly he let it fall from his grasp to clang and spill on the platform, and as if it were a summons, the action made for the royal guard to appear.

"what is it now!" Thranduil groaned.

The guard went to their knees, "your Majesty, there is a disturbance at the gates."

Thranduil's eyes rolled, "and I should involve myself in such frivolous matters because?"

"it is the wanderer," one of his guards spoke, "he has returned with some demands, and we did not know how you would wish to proceed after a warning to never set foot in your wood again."

King Thranduil sprung into the proper position on his throne.

"what will you have us do, my Lord?"

Truthfully, he did not know, as the situation seemed promising, and yet, he did not know why. Could it be a means of entertainment? All the King did know was that he was earnest to make straight for the gates, as swiftly as his legs could carry him.

"remain here," he ordered, leaving his cloak blanketed on the throne he abandoned with haste, "and I shall deal with this matter myself."

Lighter without the garments load, Thranduil's journey was cut short from taking a route that not many walked, as the paths were far too thin, and he soon loomed above the scene, having not been the first to be informed of Elyan's abrupt arrival, as there beneath his path, was Orist, spoiling the reunion between father and child.

The Wanderer had a deathly grip on Aniyah, which for some reason did not sit well with Thranduil, as his filthy fingers curled around her arms possessively, and when Orist gently tried to persuade the elf to leave while he still could, the man crushed Aniyah against his chest like she was an infant, and Orist's touch poison.

"I will not leave without my daughter!" Elyan cried beyond the pain, as his inflictions were of course weakening him with all the commotion he was causing, and he collapsed, tremoring as if he were in the throes of the coldest and harshest winter winds.

catching her father's head to stop it from hitting the ground, Elyan quivered as Aniyah kissed his slick and bruised brow.

" _Atar,"_ she whimpered _, "this is ridiculous! You should not have come after me. Please, can't you see that you are in no fit shape to do anything but rest!"_

Thranduil sneered at the haggardness to prove Aniyah's claim right. Elyan's twisted nose, his swollen eyes and rasping breath; the blood seeping out of disturbed wounds and the corner of his mouth. He was a pitiful sight, who the king was inept to sympathize with. Nevertheless, Thranduil's Disgust was beaten by interest, seeing that Aniyah held no resentment towards Elyan, as one might expect. It was after all her father's fault that she was here to pay for his crime in the first place, and yet with the wanderer's every infliction, given by his order, it was like the girl suffered the same as her father, only the pain was within her compassionate heart.

"your daughter is right wanderer," Thranduil announced and because his presence had gone unnoticed, standing where he was, so did the three below him gasp, having not realised that he was among them.

The king smiled at their expressions, "if I am not mistaken, I had banished you from my kingdom and wood, making your arrival here, an act of trespassing. So tell me, what reason do you have for this insolence?"

Elyan had the decency to look worried, just not on behalf of himself. The wanderer, despite his fragile bones, rose seeking support from his daughter who again turned into the object in need of his fatherly protection.

"I have come to speak with you!" he declared, his gaze lifting to where the king was still on the high path.

Thranduil placed his hands behind his back, and made a sound like laughter, "is that so, and what could you possibly have to say, that you haven't already said the last time you were here?"

Elyan raised an arm to plead with the King, resisting to support his ribs, "I have something to offer you in exchange for my daughter's freedom."

Thranduil was silent.

"she has told me already of the meaning behind your summons for one of my children and for that I am glad she keeps her life. But consider, if you wish not to kill, making me a lifelong prisoner in my child's stead. Just let Aniyah go. Please I **_beg_** of you."

It was not hard to see where Aniyah had taken her green, green eyes. Those irises, as well as that strange hair, which could not make up its mind on what shade it wished to be, was all Elyan's, except for Aniyah's features. Those were not her father's doing, and possessed a beauty that no Silvan elf has before. Aniyah practically glowed as if she had been blessed by the first light of the world. Stunning in every way…

So absorbed with the girl, Thranduil had quite forgotten where he was going with his rambling's and the long silence unsettled the girl, who consumed his thoughts, her father, and Orist as well, while they waited for the king's reply.

"you!" he snapped, "Tell me, why would I want another mouth to feed, who does nothing but rot in my dungeons and feel sorry for themselves. At least with Aniyah, she will earn her keep. Any other offer you have for me will simply not do Elyan."

"then maybe," the wanderer stuttered, licking his dry and cracked lips, "maybe if I work for you? I have been in all the realms and know a fair bit of trade. Would you see potential in that ability at least?"

Thranduil could indeed see Elyan's uses in that regard. His kingdom's fortune had been slacking as of late, and he had shunned all aid from the rest of his kin, choosing to close his doors to the outside world, for the better half of a year now. His fine food and wine, was running low. The wine in particular.

He would need to do something about that soon…

Elyan could see Thranduil's deliberation and pushed the issue, "I am willing to serve my Lord, and I only ask that you release my beloved daughter in return."

The wiser decision would be to accept the wanderer's offer of servitude, as it was more beneficial compared with the work a maidservant could do, and he had dozens of them. A tradesman however, he lacked.

Thranduil beheld the girl again, and instead of coming to a conclusion himself, his mind refused to do so, and he murmured, "why not let Aniyah make the decision?" because the king, could not.

While her father had been pleading his case, Orist had come to comfort Aniyah, preventing her from disrupting the negotiation between her father and king, not knowing what the latter would do with her if Aniyah crossed the line like her father. Already he was shocked that the king had managed to stay so calm, given the circumstances, but that did not mean he wouldn't act out soon enough as he was so unpredictable.

Aniyah was thankful to Orist for his caution, but she could not remain idle no more, especially when her father looked ready for passing out. She needed to finish this.

"enough king Thranduil! I am the one you have made a deal with. My father cannot serve; it is not in his nature to be governed by someone else's will. He is too much like the wind, going wherever it takes him. it remains as we agreed. I stay here, in your kingdom, and as your maidservant."

"Aniyah-" Elyan went to protest, but his daughter cut him short, taking his cheek in her hand.

"Atar, no one decides my fate but me. Accept that there is nothing which I would allow you to do for my sake. It has been decided."

Again, the peasant demonstrated before Thranduil her courage, bravery and complete selflessness. However much he might want to deny it, Aniyah was admirable and he did not know how to handle one such as she.

As he always did when confused or conflicted, or anything else in the like, Thranduil's defence mechanism turned to spite to cover what he might view as weakness. "I can't say that this won't be a decision you will regret."

"I know this already," Aniyah admitted bowing her head, as she regretted it already, but would not take back her word.

fussing over her father, she threw back at Thranduil, "and you need not be so cruel!" for good measure.

Pointlessly whispering, as Thranduil could hear everything spoken with his elven ears, Orist took Elyan's other arm to support his waning legs, though the man stood taller than him.

"Aniyah, it is a miracle your father made it this far. He cannot return home to your village in the state he is in. He will collapse before he makes it across the bridge."

His servant had a point, and where he didn't so much as feel a flicker of guilt when his guards pounded Elyan's flesh while Thranduil watched amused, the feeling was creeping up on him now

"Orist!" the wanderer and Aniyah might not have paid him no heed, but faithful to his master, Orist stood to attention, as his king ordered, "arrange for a cart and driver to take the wanderer home."

Consumed with her father, Aniyah took a minute to register what Thranduil had said.

"you would do that?" she asked, a little more than surprised.

King Thranduil lowered only his neck, gawking menacingly at Aniyah, while the rest of him stayed stick straight, "not so cruel now am I?"

Not wanting him to retract the gesture, Aniyah did not argue that it was what the king could at least do, for those he had so wronged.

"well, thank you. At least I shall not have to worry about how his journey fares."

Her gentle touch soothed Elyan, and she hugged him, careful not to cause her father any further pain, and she smiled a sweet smile, that complimented her loveliness, and Thranduil was captured by it, as he had not seen a smile in a very long time. None which were genuine in any case.

"it is not for your benefit. I just see no other way to get this finished with, and end this tiresome matter I have already wasted so much of my time on"

The words were harsh, but their tone lacked Thranduil's usual cynicism. Instead, the sentence was dull and could have easily gone unnoticed, but among a company of elves, of course everyone had heard him. They just didn't choose to acknowledge the king, and he retreated to his chambers, leaving the three alone, and with smiling ruby red lips fixed in his memory, and wondering, why?

….

Thranduil always had a pitcher waiting on a table in his chambers, and it was the first thing he made for when he entered, no matter his mood. Besides Orist who was his personal servant to some degree, no other soul was permitted to enter his room and it lay in quite the state, with shards of broken objects scattered on the ground from where he had thrown something in rage.

No one was allowed to disturb him here.

Nevertheless, she, could not restrain herself.

"Thranduil, who is that young girl?"

Caladwen.

Daughter to his father's sister, Thranduil allowed for the woman to live at his expense after promising his predecessor that he would, for his beloved sisters sake if for nothing else. Truly, Thranduil had never even liked her, not even as children. There was just something in her air, that made Caladwen repellent, though she tried to be graceful and inviting because of her noble heritage.

Certainly she was… pretty, in the way that nearly every elf was, but besides that there nothing else about her that drew your eye. So she commanded that you do so by being an utter nuisance.

Richly clothed, Caladwen had a habit of trying to match the colour Thranduil wore from day to day. She thought it was a subtle thing. But he had noticed and he also knew the reason why.

She loved him.

Whatever concept of love she had, Caladwen bestowed it on Thranduil, and she was convinced he would someday see her there and suddenly realise, that he had always loved her too.

The king could almost laugh hysterically at the absurd idea, as even if she were the last elven woman in all of middle earth, he would sooner sail for the undying lands, or cut his throat. Either one did him just fine.

Thranduil sipped his wine, "what young girl are you talking about?"

"the girl I saw you speaking with at the gate, with Orist and some other wretch."

Caladwen sauntered in and poured herself her own glass of wine after snatching the pitcher from Thranduil's hand. The king hated the close proximity, and retreated to his chair, that made for a bed too when Thranduil surrendered to sleep, as he could not bear the literal one behind him.

"a new maidservant that is all."

Swilling the crimson liquid in her cup, Caladwen too sipped at the drink slowly, remarking that, "the girl was fearless."

"a child that wanted to impress her father. Foolish is what I would call that, and hardly fearless."

The lie did not sit well on Thranduil's tongue, and he washed it away with another sip from his goblet, sloshing it about in his mouth before he swallowed.

Swinging around her light blonde braid, Caladwen preoccupied her spare hand by stroking the design, "she can't be that much of a child, considering how you were looking at her."

"my dear cousin," Thranduil chuckled, "I could have any woman that I want and desire."

The declaration was a dig at Caladwen, meaning that he had made no advancement on her, because then he didn't have a single shred of desire towards her; none at all.

Her small lips all but disappeared as her face hardened.

"yes, any woman is yours my king…but not her I am afraid."

Caladwen smirked, and when she did Thranduil could not help but hope his was not so unsettling as hers. But then it must be, because he only did so when he was feeling particularly spiteful, same as Caladwen was now and his stomach turned for taking one of her habits, wishing no one resembled her with him.

"she appeared to be very proud. A daughter that would never love another as much as she does her father, thus her heart is not so easily won by empty illusions and attempts at seduction."

King Thranduil took the bait, as Caladwen knew he hated a glorified woman when they were for him a merciless sex because of his history, which earnt him a broken heart that when healed, turned to cold stone.

And it was all because of _H_ _ **er**_ , who Caladwen refused to grace with a name.

"three weeks Caladwen!" Thranduil snarled, with a seed of vengeance sown in him and planted by his cousin who knew exactly what she was doing, as she wanted Thranduil to see these women that he claimed he could make swoon at will, to be just like **_Her._** That way, she might stand out above them all, finally.

"three weeks," he continued, "and you will find that damned bed put into use again, with a girl to warm the sheets!"

"then bet on it," Caladwen dared, "if you win, I shall accept Lord Rhaegal's proposal, since I know you have been arranging a marriage between the two of us. And if I win, well Thranduil, you will have to marry me yourself."

He stared at her with those crystal eyes, admitting "I would not make you happy cousin. I wouldn't make any effort to do so."

"how are you so sure that we couldn't be happy?"

Thranduil snorted, thinking that he would have to actually like her first, and thousands of years could not achieve that.

"it doesn't matter because it will not happen. You are going to lose Caladwen, living with the knowledge that I will be with Aniyah…until I get bored of her that is."

…

 **Thank you so much for your kind reviews xxx**


	6. Chapter 6

If night was here again. I did not know. The skies now remain a mystery to me, whether they be blue or black, sunny or starry.

I would not see neither of these transitions and I thought it odd that one would be robbed of such a simple aspect in life, as I was never allowed to step foot over the threshold. Even as I waved goodbye to my father, his damaged form swaddled in blankets, my toes did not dare to cross the line. And as the gates closed shut, so did the magnitude of what I had agreed to, hit me, suddenly confined within these vast halls.

It was strangely terrifying, and I distracted myself by refusing Orist's offering of a reprieve where my chores were concerned and instead, dived right in, learning as I went along, so that by the time I entered my room once more, and lay my body down, exhaustion would ensnare me before I could possibly account for all that had happened, as well as the emotions that went along with those events.

My chest rose and it fell deeply with my every breath, my eye lids like anchors; my senses were just about shot, when my sensitive ears picked up a noise, which could hardly be possible. Not in this place any way.

At first I did my best to ignore it, but the muffled, piercing sound would not go away, and interest banished any thought of resting. I prompt myself up on an elbow and waited for more to reach me, as faint as it was because of the distance and obstacles in the form of thick walls, however, it did not let me down, and I ran for the door, before it could stop and I thought of nothing else being the culprit of such pitch other than my earlier presumption.

Was that, a babe's cry?

I pressed my cheek to the door frame and my brow fell.

If I were correct the poor thing was not happy, but the crying wasn't rash and heated like in anger or frustration. It was…sorrowful, like it was pleading with someone and I was the sole person listening.

So affected by it, my face was wet with tears though my face was not in the throes of anguish. I just cried, without any real notice on my part, until the point where I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, Reave was staring down at me, while I was crumpled on the floor between the door and its frame.

"what on middle-earth are you doing?"

I didn't have an explanation and rambled, while rubbing a creak out my neck from where it had been at an awkward angle all night.

"here, let me help," she said and taking my hand, she hoisted me up.

"Goodness girl," she eyed me with her steel gaze, "your still in your uniform."

I didn't think she was lecturing me, but Reave seemed a little baffled, in an amused sort of way. I yawned, "well, I was too tired to change out of it."

She smiled, which was something I hadn't seen the elf do yet, and it suited her heart shaped face, making it beam warmly. I would have said as much, but Reave struck me as a woman who did not understand the concept of a compliment or why someone would feel the need to give one, so I kept the opinion to myself, although I smiled back.

Reave spun and pushed me back into the room, laughing "and evidently you were too tired to make it to the bed. Come on, let's get you ready."

Setting me down, the water and cloth I had on the table from yesterday made do, as she started to wash my face like Myrin used to when I was a girl, discontent until I was red raw. I groaned the same as I used to at how rough Reave was being, and protested against the cold, for the all good it did. If anything, the woman only scrubbed harder and turned her harsh intent on my scalp next.

My head jerked back with each tug of the brush, and I knew she was doing it on purpose, though she denied it.

"for your information," I whined, "I did make it to the bed. It's just that; I heard something."

Reave hummed indifferently, "really, and what exactly did you hear?"

I paused, debating if it was worth mentioning, and then I remembered how sad the sound was, and how desperate…

"I think… Reave, I think it was a baby."

The brush froze mid stroke, as the elf became still.

"Reave," I took my hair and pulled it around my neck, so she couldn't use it as a distraction, "you know something that you don't want to tell me."

Nervously the elf tried to belittle my claim, but seeing that I didn't waver she came into her old ways, and hardened, although the blow was softened by how gentle her fingers were when they took my chin.

"Aniyah, I must advise, that you don't pry into business that's not your own."

Reave sighed, prompting me to turn back around, so she could carry on brushing my hair, only she was slower and not as adamant to get rid of the tangled waves.

"it's for the best" she explained, "if you just separate yourself from the mystery this stronghold contains."

I could not decipher whether she was telling me this, or herself. Perhaps, it was a little of both. But it did confirm for me that the sound had not been all in my head, and that my elder had too been privy to it at least once before. It didn't soothe me any though, when I thought of how many instances Reave might have heard the supposed child before my arrival, and has done nothing to help, since I was still convinced that the cries had been because of loneliness.

I was confused.

Confused at how there would be an infant present somewhere in the first place, seeing as I did not believe Thranduil would condone courtships between his servants.

It was a mystery as Reave had labelled it, and the more I wondered, the more evident it became that her advice to separate myself from the mystery was something I was not likely to do.

"there," Reave said, with some last strokes to take the creases out my uniform, "now no one will be able to tell you spent the night on the floor."

Grinning I kidded, "isn't that a relief."

"well it is," reave said, as she got up off the bed and removed the water bowl, having promised she would have a fresh one there by the time I was ready to rest, "because I came here for the very reason that the king would like to speak with you."

Shocked, I asked why that was, tucking my hair behind my ears since it was a preference I had to show off their point.

Reave looked down the corridor, "Orist didn't say. Only that you must meet his grace in the wine cellar you cleared yesterday."

"He should be there now, and I wouldn't keep him waiting," Reave spoke quietly for me, "because who knows what his mood is like this merry morn."

With that, she was gone, and gathering myself I exhaled sharply and did the same, going to the place that I had cursed for how long I had been there yesterday providing order to the chaos I had come upon. Crates and broken shards of glass; countless racks tipped over and all with a healthy coating of dust. I had breathed so much in that I couldn't stop coughing as it tickled my lungs, which worked to my benefit I suppose, in trying to distract myself from my father.

I hoped that he was alright now and safe in his bed with Myrin to care for him. He had caused quite the stir yesterday in his act of defiance, which was probably what Thranduil wished to discuss.

I groaned.

Another dispute with the king wasn't all that appealing. I would much rather whatever breakfast Reave had made for the servants to fill me, rather than being fuelled by anger all day.

Deliberately, my steps were slow and when I rounded the corner and took, yet another stairwell down, the king was not as I had expected.

True it was an early morning, but he struck me as an elf who revelled in luxury no matter the time or place, as his presentation when I had met him on his throne exuded magnificence and extravagance. Here however, warmed by candle light, King Thranduil was dressed humbly, in crimson breaches a plain tunic, and without his crown, although I could still picture it there atop his silver head.

"my Lord," I spoke to announce my arrival, but he didn't acknowledge me until I came face to face with him and curtsied slightly, "what can I do for you?"

I peeked up at him, and though I didn't care to admit it, his handsome features made my breath stutter, as it seemed like every expression he wore was sculpted to perfection; his jaw and high cheeks, even his mouth, which was tinted with a rosy hue; these were qualities that would make any woman swoon, only I prided myself to being not like most women.

As if he were reading my mind, king Thranduil chuckled, and raised his chin signalling about the room with an elegant hand.

"it appears to me Aniyah, that I am the one who should ask you this."

Confused, I straightened my back, "my lord?"

He inhaled deeply with his blue eyes gleaming, "well the cellar. If someone had stepped foot in here, they would have hardly believed they were in a palace such as mine. Perhaps now, as I have been thinking, we could harvest in the grapes of the Greenwood and create our own wine."

He walked over to a barrel and tilted it some, "I haven't tasted our own concoction for many years. It would be nice to have the taste on my tongue again."

Cautiously, as I was aware of the hint of sincerity I detected in the latter part of his declaration, I answered that, "I only did as I was ordered," finding it odd that I would be wary over someone's honesty.

Why would he choose to make me privy to these thoughts of how he would like to use this cellar again?

It wasn't that I didn't care. Brewing wine seemed like a good idea, which I approved of. It was just that, I have been here just two days, and have shared with Thranduil just two conversations before this one, and they were hardly what I would call friendly. So I couldn't understand why I was the chosen elf he made candid to his enthusiasm and future plans. For example, Why not Orist instead?

"in a single evening," he continued to be in wonder, twirling on his heel, "you did all this, proving you do work with such fervour."

Though protocol would have demanded it when addressing a king, I again did not curve my feelings.

My green eyes fixed on him, I recalled Thranduil's interest in my unscathed hands, and rose them from my sides, stating "and here you doubted me upon my arrival."

I kept them held up for him to see the blisters forming on my skin and the few scrapes that cut red lines across the white flesh. I'll admit, there was some pride there on my behalf and I touched fingertip, to fingertip wearing a small smile, as these were my sisters hands now, and the similarities eased the guilt I often felt, when it was she who did so much.

Thranduil could not know the thoughts that ran through my head and took to spirit my accusing tone, as he swung back a cloak which was not there, and drew his hands to enclose mine completely, with his thumbs brushing the nearest graze. From how thick his brows were, they enhanced his expressions to be more than they were, like now what might be a simple frown was made to seem like he witnessed wounds to the bone, rather than what they were, and although this care would have taking me aback, it was what he did next that shocked me enough not to move, or more so unbelievably, not to speak.

My hands, keen to keep his dazzling eyes on me, he raised them to his lips, where slowly he pressed his lips against them.

"a mistake," he began, "which I will not make again young elf; to underestimate you."

I could only imagine how my face, written with shock, actually looked at this moment; and what's more, where his mouth had been pursed to grant me with what appeared to be an apologetic kiss, there was a tingling sensation lingering, proving that I had not for some strange reason, made up what had just passed.

If I were numb from shock, king Thranduil did not point it out, which I was thankful for, and instead released me to retrieve a large bottle he had resting atop an empty barrel and from not being held, I kicked myself for noting the cold I felt in my fingers when Thranduil's were not there, wondering why that would matter to me, and for what damned reason, hands were of keen focus during this meeting.

Cradling the glass bottle at the neck and bottom, he brought it closer for me to look at.

"in here is a wine brewed from the last harvest, and is as a result the last concoction. I would like for you to try it, as a thank you gesture."

Confused enough already, I spoke before he could pop off the cork and spoil the contents, "no I mustn't. The day is very early king Thranduil, and I have much work I expect, so I would rather not dull my mind."

I thought his mouth faltered at my refusal, and not realising I was staring, I flickered my gaze to the ground and humbly bowed my head slightly.

He was silent to the point where I was sure that I was in for a lecture on gratefulness, but maintaining this new persona of pleasantry, it did not come, as he resided to my choice not to indulge him.

Although the king did not respond how I would have expected, I could tell from the stillness in us both, that I had struck a chord, and I suddenly felt uncomfortable, wishing to be away from it.

"excuse me my lord, but they must need me in the kitchen."

In trying to pardon myself, I turned only to look back just as swiftly when my name was called.

"Aniyah!"

Hair whipped against my neck, a mass was now draped over my shoulder, inviting the king to come forth and brush it back in place, and coincidently, my chin experienced that same rush of warmth, from a single caress.

If I weren't so captivated by this stranger, I am sure my eyes would have narrowed, knowing that Thranduil was teasing me; Except they didn't. They were open and they were wide, fixed on his glacial irises.

I waited for him to explain himself, but he did not.

He was a king.

He need never explain himself.

At least, not to the likes of me he doesn't.

However, a part of me believed that there was something to take from his use of calling me by name, and not the title, servant, which he might have wanted to enforce on me when we had met.

…..

With a row of fresh greens laid out before her, there was no telling their original shape, as they were cut and quartered to tiny specks, and still Reave was going at them with her chopping knife, keeping her glare fixed on the kitchens entryway, as she continued the rapid motion that put the vegetables and leaves into the state they were before her and in mounds.

She could sense a pain centring at her temple from scowling so hard, after growing so impatient with the anticipated arrival of the oaf who the king has dared give the running of the servants, Orist, and bitterly she laughed thinking how he was always pestering her when it was she didn't need him, but have that flipped around and the near hobbit, was absolutely nowhere in sight. Sometimes Reave thought he must do it on purpose just to get a kick out of her frustration, for the Lady of Light knows, she was an elf easy to anger, and it wasn't precisely something she could help, but others could by not being so infuriating.

Normally when she was in this foul a mood, the rest of the servants made sure to stay clear of her and find task elsewhere around the stronghold, since Reave generally stuck to the kitchens as the chief cook, but unfortunately for them, there wasn't anything they had been ordered to do, and no one dared do things by their own will, when the king was so temperamental also, and would wait instead for the order to be given first before they did anything. And so, the six elves were resorted to preparing lunch for the king and his vile cousin, who each demanded opulence and yet hardly eat none of what Reave prepared. At first her mind had been a little worried, but nothing to repel company, but nearly an hour of waiting on Orist has absolutely fouled her to the core, and the six elves were shifty on their seats, begging to be set free, since all Reave could do to make herself feel better was to snap at them at random.

Finally, Orist's pampered form joined in the tense atmosphere, though he barely noticed it, and the very sharp knife Reave held was suddenly stabbed right into the wood of the cutting block, poking out rather lethally, and she fixed her sleeves and pointed an accusing finger at the girl nearest to where she and Orist would be talking, and Reave thought to have move further away.

"Girl!"

The young thing flinched.

"Go peel the oranges. Now!"

Obediently, she rose and quickly walked over to the back where the fruit were piled high in their cartons, since the king had a particular fondness for them, and Reave eyed her all the way nearing the proud elf who had his nose buried in a piece of parchment, and did not acknowledge Reave for all she was worth.

Leaning into his ear, Reave's whisper was more like a hiss.

"Orist."

He lamely replied, but the cook needed his full attention and smacked his arm, "Orist!" she hissed again through clenched teeth.

Drawing back the arm she struck, he wiped his sleeve's fine material clean like she had stained it and glowered at her.

"what is it now woman," Orist complained, "I have a lot on my plate."

Reave could have snorted at the blatant lie, knowing that his reading the parchment which was her inventory list, would be the highlight of his day, but waved it off as she could not contain it no longer, admitting, "It's Aniyah; she heard him last night."

Still, the elf had not listened to Reave as he should have, as he was running fingers through his sandy locks, as if he were petting a precious cat, and the cook would not doubt that he did this late at night to drift him off to sleep.

Imbecile.

"Hear who?"

Reave did not oblige Orist with an answer and leaned on the marble counter, with her hand resting in the curve of her waist, as she raised a brow and counted in her head how long it would take for him to twig the more than obvious answer.

When it finally did, his mouth winded into a perfect 'O' shape, and he hustled her off into a corner.

"Did you try to put her off?"

Reave had relayed the discussion over enough to think that in retrospect she might have played Aniyah more to put her off the scent, instead of giving her a warning, since that was pretty much a confession in itself.

She shrugged her shoulders, "I don't think it would have worked, even if I had done more. She's a curious thing."

The last part might have sounded more of a compliment rather than a worry, but Reave would admit, if just to herself, that she was rather fond of Aniyah in the short time she knew her. She was headstrong, wilful and an overall good person, and the world would be better off, if more women were like her.

From Orist's expression, Reave could tell that he shared these feelings regarding the girl, as he said plainly, "Curiosity comes with youth."

Be that as it may, Reave stuck to her word whilst in Aniyah's bedroom, and would forever vouch leaving business, which was not her own, untouched, less the girl opens a flood gate of raw emotion.

"Yes, well, it won't do her any good if she goes snooping."

Orist tipped his blunt hair to the side as he angled his head in deep, deep thought, "…maybe."

Nothing hardly ever got pass Reave, only the little love ensnared her for a moment, the way his beauty contorted with each cry, while the rest of his body was still, and tucked beneath the blankets. However, with sorrow, he trembled and was cold to the touch, for even as babes, the elves feel more deeply than any race, and are affected more, because of it.

"It was me who was with him last night; and I can be honest with you Orist, I'm a woman true, but having never had any of my own, I don't know what exactly I am doing. He cries all the time, and there is no consoling him."

Orist nodded, being one of only two people who knew the child resided within the stronghold at all, after they had done everything to cover his existence, by order of the king.

"and I can't say that I'm much better. He needs more than what we can give to him."

And all the two could give him was milk to settle his hunger and a kind word, but the babe now rejected the first, and cried too loudly to put the second too much use. Slowly, he was fading away, and they were scared for him.

But Aniyah…

She had a tender heart; Orist saw that while she was with her father. A woman with a great capacity to love, which fuelled the idea he had brewing, until he was too compelled not to follow it out, even if it meant disobeying his master for the first time in all the years he had been under his servitude, and risking his wrath.

"Orist?"

Dubious to his plan, Reave raised a brow as the elf suddenly pranced away from her with some haste, when they had just been in a middle of an important discussion.

However, Orist ignored her, asking, with his foot on the first step ready to ascend the accursed staircase he had just come down, "Where is Aniyah, Reave?"

She deliberated, "Probably still speaking with Thranduil, whatever it was he wanted."

Orist had forgotten the king had trapped him this morning to pass Aniyah's summons along, surprised actually that no voices had been raised to alert anybody of a heated argument between the king and the girl, since they were not on the best of terms considering everything that has happened.

Reave neared Orist rather suspiciously, hating being kept in the dark, when it was blatantly obvious that he was up to something, "What have you got planned Orist?"

Despite himself, Orist took advantage of Reave's wonder, smirking at her and making sure to take more steps, so that he stood for once, taller than she, "Nothing my dear," and then he hurried off, catching her cursing his name as he went.

….

As he made his way to the wine cellar, Orist was quite eager to catch up with Aniyah with something of hope and anticipation stirring within him, that added a certain spark to his character, but that spark was spoilt when he heard someone call his name in a voice filled with so much authority, that it could be no one else.

"Orist."

King Thranduil was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, and a leg prompted up off the ground, while his defined chin was pointed in the opposite direction to where Orist stood frozen in place, and a little startled.

Nervously he feigned a shaky smile in greeting "oh your grace..." he started and swallowed back the lump formed at the back of his throat, "I was just- "

"that does not interest me," Thranduil cut in, pushing off from his resting place, and prowling forwards, like a proud beast, with his chest broad and hardened as he thrust it out like nothing could touch him, "what does, is your handlings over the servant's letters."

"well, on the rare occasion they are given to me, I make certain they go where they need to, my lord," Orist admitted, regretting it now when he suspected it was just another thing the servants were being robbed of, for the sake of Thranduil's pursuit to isolate himself from the rest of the kingdom. Even kin from the likes of Rivendell and Lothlorien were discouraged from coming near the Greenwood, which was an awful shame, for the stronghold would be utterly enthralled with the festivity that came with such visits from the lord Elrond, and more so, when it was the Lady Galadriel.

Did he ever miss them?

Orist had to wonder, for they were more Thranduil's equal than any other elf could be and would hold with him conversations to challenge the mind, which the Silvan elves could not keep up with.

Orist remembered how he used to stand like a statue at his king's side, listening to three great Elves speak and reveal to each other secrets of the world, and it used to remind him of the honour it was to serve one of the likes of such greatness.

And now look at Thranduil…

So filled with hate and scorn, and a coldness.

Pain has burned a hole in his heart, and now the organ does not exist, but for the sake of the man he once was, Orist remained by his king's side, even though the marvel at him had faded long ago.

"well you would know as well as I that Aniyah," Thranduil swept the shoulder of Orist's lilac uniform, seeing that the action did as he sought to do and unnerve him. He smiled and carried on, "is very attached to her family, and I wouldn't doubt she has already asked permission to correspond with them this way?"

Stiffly, Orist nodded, "yes, she has your grace."

Pleasure came as a satisfying laugh, which made Orist wince. Thranduil had something up his sleeve for certain, and whatever it was, it must be coming together.

"good," he beamed rather horribly, "then when she hands her letters over to you, I would ask that you bring them first to me; am I understood."

"bring them to you? but sire-

Again Orist was cut off, and he bit his tongue before saying anymore of what he wanted to say, with Thranduil's face mere inches from his own, and there was something serpentine the way he jerked further forwards and back, following Orist where he tried to avoid the Kings icy glare and failing.

"I would silence you there Orist! Because if anything else is said I fear for what I might do, since I have let pass a lot these last two days. So, do as I command and bring me those letters."

Maintaining the same close proximity, Thranduil smirked slapping the palm of his hand against Orist's cheek, "And do not look so worried. The wanderer will hear from his daughter; only first, I will read what she has to say for herself."

Though Orist did not voice his agreement, Orist could not disobey his king this, with the wanderer not mattering him as much as betraying Aniyah confidence, even if it were by force, and as the king walked away, he silently with more fervour than Reave usually did, cursed his king for his cruelty.

"damn you, Thranduil."

….

 **I must apologise for this chapter taking so long, but at last here it is, and I hope you enjoyed it,**

 **J**

 **xxxxx**


	7. Chapter 7

With the candles in this stronghold being unable to light themselves, I dipped a flame to touch the wick of the wax, which was nestled in a statues hand, until it came alight and I slowly withdrew it, to gaze upon the beautiful carving, managing to capture a face that was distinctively its own, and yet could be anyone at the same time. If I had learnt anything of my own race since being here, it was how ornate the elves could be with their artistic hands, for I had seen nothing like this back home, whose only superior feature over the humans were in the structures of our houses, being built with materials not as raw as dirt walls and straw roof tops.

I could speak the language, but there seemed to be a history of my people, which I did not know.

"what is your village like?"

The small voice pulled me from my admiration, as I had not heard it up until that moment, and it was so very quiet and sweet, that I still could have missed it, and was surprised that I hadn't, only the stronghold, was deathly silent.

I would have asked her pardon, but my elven ears had picked up on her question, and it confused me to a degree for how random it was, and after staring at her, I wandered to another candle closer to where she was, so that our conversation wouldn't need to be strained because of distance.

I thought on it, and found it hard to describe my home, somehow believing that words fell short, for it was more the feeling that surrounded my village which was more entrancing then its appearance where I was concerned.

It was peaceful, serene, however I settled on a more boring answer.

"well, like any other I suppose."

The elf smiled at me and was enlightened by the glow of the flame she held, showing off her child like face, for in some ways it was like it hadn't matured since she had reached her thirteenth year, and her height was not much taller than my shoulders too, and I myself was a little on the short side.

"elven villages are not common Aniyah."

It wasn't an accusing tone, only her voice carried a touch of wisdom which interested me, for one who looked so innocent, and though I hate myself for saying it…naïve.

"don't you-" I began, having gone with the assumption that she was from a similar background as I, for reasons I could not fathom, but as she explained that was not the case.

"no, my mother and father were wanderers like your father, only back then, the wanderers travelled around middle earth in groups. Thus, I was born beneath the open sky, crossing the land from one corner to the next as I grew, with our hymns forever escaping our lips to pass the time."

I marvelled at her tale, having thought that wanderer's were solitary figures the same as my father, since he had never spoken of encountering another like himself, and I suppose a part of me wanted to be like him, so that he wasn't alone out there in the wilderness, where I feared risk of danger on his behalf and not having anyone there to help him.

"what happened to them?" I asked, since something must have transpired for her to end up in King Thranduil's kingdom, which must have been such a drastic change for her, as much as it was for me, but that might depend on how many years she has had to adjust.

The elf's gaze became distant, whereby I was sure she did not see me, and looked instead at a memory.

"you dream of the world Aniyah," her expression turned sympathetic, "but not all of it is good."

I frowned at her statement and she moved away to light another candle, while I waited on her to elaborate and she did in her own time, looking into the fire which remained a solid flame, when there was no breeze to make it flicker.

"My parents," she started, "they were slain by monstrous creatures."

I gasped, not meaning for the sound to be so loud, worrying how it would make her feel, and I deduced the name of these monsters rather easily, since in a place as beautiful as middle earth, there was something just as foul far into the shadow lands.

"orcs?"

The elf did not even flinch as she nodded and it was my turn to be sympathetic.

"I am sorry."

When it came to my mother, her passing had been an accident, which my sister Myrin blamed herself for to this very day, since it was she who had slipped into a rushing river while playing with other children. My mother dived right in after her, and as the current brought them together, she was able to usher my sister onto a bank to save her; but she was not so fortunate.

The river proved stronger and she was swept away…

None grieved more than my sister, who has never had any closure from her loss, which was why she is sometimes pained to look at my face, and jealous, since Myrin has an obsession over our mother which makes her incapable of letting go of her, so she can move on.

It was different for me, because I had no memory of the elf who birthed me, so her loss did not cut as deep as it perhaps should have, and I did feel guilty to feel that way, only I could not change how whenever I thought about my parents, of course it was Elyan who took the role as my father, but my mother, it has only ever been Myrin's face that I have seen.

So unlike the elf before me, I was hardly an orphan.

"it was his majesty himself who found me, while out on patrol; an infant still breathing while death surrounded her, and he brought me here to be healed. Since that day, I have never left. Too scared too actually."

I stared at her for a while, understanding now why she was so quiet, since she indeed carried a scar because of what happened to her during those early years of her life, and it has spoilt the world where she was concerned, and while she was wise, I believe, an element of shock, takes away any desire to be sociable, perhaps fearing loss again.

I could have shed a tear for her, but somehow I don't think she would have appreciated my tears.

"you'll have to forgive me. You know my name, But I don't know yours in return."

The elf inclined her head enough for me to still see her face.

"Teeva, my name is Teeva."

Avoiding the hand that held the live flame, I cupped the other and squeezed it.

"well it is good to be in your company Teeva."

…..

Slowly as myself and my new friend Teeva made our way through the stronghold lighting candles as we went, the time did not matter, as we became more comfortable to speak with each other about the most random things, and goodness if I did not make the stoic elf laugh on one occasion, by my mentioning of how I suspected something going on between Orist and Reave.

I had thought she might tell me of how ridiculous I was being, but Teeva to my surprise agreed whole heartedly, telling me that I was right enough, because it was how Reave was particularly harsh on Orist, which made my suspicions true.

Orist and Reave.

They certainly would make an odd pairing, what with one being pristine to the last detail, while the other was more hands on in physical hard labour, like the masculine and feminine roles were reversed between them, however, if they did not care, then it was really no one else's concern, when the day comes the two decide to be honest and not so stubborn.

I gazed along the corridor we were standing and sighed, having many more candles to go, as the walls lay in shadow, and without warning, I jumped at the nearness of a stranger's voice, whipping around to see a new figure, who had caused Teeva to bow her head low, as a mark of respect, making me wonder who this person could be to demand such a reaction from the servant.

Since I did not do as Teeva did and was panting from my sudden jolt of fright, the woman arched a thin brow, that was scarcely there at all because of how light her hair was and pursed her pink lips, stained with something to make their colouring richer than it actually was for it spilled over the edges of where her lips were usually shaped, to make them appear bigger than they were.

"as I was saying," she repeated, since what she had said to surprise me by her sudden presence, I had not comprehended and she must have known as much, to reword it.

"we do need more servants," and she eyed my attire, the same dress which Teeva wore also as it distinguished us from our betters, and I could tell it pleased her to see us so plainly dressed, as it made her relish her own finery more, as her own crimson gown was decadent, with a fine stitching to fix in place a few diamonds to make stars.

She was dressed almost royally, and I wondered who she was, as the king did not have queen, although this one here sure acted like she did rule the place, as she brushed past, causing me to falter slightly from the contact against my shoulder.

Her arms folding, she cocked her hip out and narrowed her gaze.

"You must find the work tiring, a large kingdom such as this, it must take a lot of upkeep."

I looked around again at the vast halls and many chamber doors, I had not yet been able to explore, but did not answer her, realising that I actually didn't want to talk to her at all, as something about her character, repelled me a little.

"how silly of me, you must be wondering who I am, since we have had no introduction. I Caladwen, King Thranduil's cousin of course, and as such, I live under his hospitality."

A cousin I thought, trying to find a resemblance between the family members and failing, since whereby I was captivated by Thranduil, even when we had first met on unfortunate circumstances, I still wanted to behold him, whereas with his cousin, it would be easy to pass her by, had she not been wearing such a bright costume.

Feeling the pressure to respond now, I gave a somewhat awkward curtsey having never been giving a reason to do them until I arrived here, and made my own introduction.

"Aniyah my lady; I have recently entered the kings service."

Her lips pinched in on themselves, and she straightened her back, to try and make herself taller than me, which she need not do when it was clear that she already was.

"I know; your quite admired here already."

Somehow, that hardly sounded like a compliment, and I was uncomfortable with Caladwen's attitude towards me, and confused also, since this was my first time meeting her, and yet I was getting something of disdain radiating off of her and aimed directly at me, though she had no cause to do so.

She stepped closer then, and I heard the click of her heels, and it was a strange thing that she would make such a choice of footwear, since elves commonly preferred to be connected with the ground, feeling a spiritual link there with the earth, keeping them against it with flat footwear if not their bare feet.

"I have heard that you have stood up to the king; in fact, I have seen it by the gates. That unfortunate circumstance involving your father, the wanderer."

I didn't cower from Caladwen as she neared me and stood my ground, and I don't think she liked that I did, for I swore to have seen her snarl slightly.

"no one does that; not even me. Your father must be proud."

Taking a lock of my hair, I was disturbed by her long fingers wrapping it around in circles and avoided her dark eyes, another difference that separated her from Thranduil for as bright as his eyes were, that was how black Caladwen's were, like two deadened pools.

"I hope so," I remarked in regards to my father as it was something that I strived for, knowing it would pain me to be reason for any shame, where he was concerned, and somehow my sincerity seemed to amuse Caladwen, and she released my hair to pinch my cheeks, as if I were a child.

"oh, you are so very good," and she touched the tip of my nose, curling in those eerily long fingers again into her palm.

"that is why, I think I must warn you Aniyah. My cousin values control, above all else. And if he does not have it, he will bend if not break you."

Caladwen chuckled, "Thranduil is skilled in this, and he might already began working on you, am I right?"

I thought back on the change of man I found in the wine cellar. Someone who was pleasant instead of a fiercely arrogant king, and merely hearing his name was enough for me to remember the phantom trace of his lips on my hand, and the way his thumb barely brushed along my chin, made the skin there, tingle from the contact.

Was Caladwen suggesting, that it had all been an act?

I went to say as much but she stopped me, with my expression having been enough.

"don't say a word; I know too well what it is he does to a woman."

So sure of herself, her voice quaked towards the end and it betrayed something of a small flickering of sincerity, which captured my attention, but she retained her composure quickly, to make me doubt it happened at all, and she smirked.

"I suggest, that you continue to be good; and never trust the king."

The last part was whispered in my pointed ear as she walked away, and I barely acknowledged Caladwen as I stared ahead of me at the space she now did not occupy and made an empty corridor again.

Teeva, having been present throughout that encounter approached me slowly.

"what was that all about?" she asked, confused as much as I and I shrugged, though it was clear to me, that her 'friendly' advice, was more of a warning, and I was conflicted as a result, knowing that despite Caladwen's tone and manner, I should take to heart all that she had said…

And yet; I did not want to.

And that was scarier than anything I had endured up until that moment.

….

With the last of the candles lit, I marvelled at the accomplishment me and Teeva had made, with the kingdom aglow, and being of elvish make, the candles would take a month at least to burn out.

Until then, we blew out the fire we carried and watched the smoke swirl and disperse in the air, and after a breather, we were ready for the next task which Reave would bestow us with, but again, I jolted from the sudden appearance of someone we had not expected to be there, but Orist was familiar, thus I lectured him, though he would be my superior.

"Orist! How long have you been lurking there!"

I had meant it all in good fun, but his seriousness took me aback when he did not respond and kept his arms folded behind his back.

"Teeva, if you would return to Reave, I would like to speak with Aniyah alone please."

The girl exchanged a worrisome glance with me, which did not help my nerves, and ushered off towards the kitchens and both Orist and I listened out for her footsteps becoming fainter, until we were assured that he had what he wanted, as was with me alone.

"Orist, is everything alright?"

For a moment I thought that Caladwen might have said something to him, though I wouldn't know what that could be to make him act the way he was, which was rather distant in my opinion, and my nervousness only worsened.

There was a long silence where he did not look at me at all, and kept his head angled in the direction where Teeva had went, and as he snapped it back to me, his body language was not so stiff, and he relaxed some, which assured me that I wasn't in any, well, serious trouble.

"Aniyah," he started, inching closer to me, yet gazing upwards, "I would like to show you something."

Before I could say or ask anything, Orist began walking up a path, leaving me with nothing to do but follow after him, and it wasn't an even pace that he walked at, as it seemed he was wary of something, has he examined odd places, like he feared that besides me, someone might be following or watching him.

I had tried calling his name a couple of times to try and figure out what was going on, but he never responded, despite my knowing he had heard me, and since he was going for stealth and silence I followed suite and just waited for the moment where all would be revealed to me, and I anticipated it with every second that passed.

Finally, in the furthest reaches of the stronghold, where dust coated nearly everything in sight, Orist stopped.

I peeked around his shoulder, but there was nothing more to see other than a pale blue door, so I could only assume it was what lay behind it, that held significance.

Orist did not say anything, and I did not disturb him, because his behaviour indicated a need for preparation within himself, as his head slumped between his shoulders, and it was only that I worried for what troubled him, that I placed a supportive hand on his shoulder and he flinched beneath it.

"Orist, what has gotten into you? Why all this secrecy."

I thought that he would remain silent still, but the breath he had been holding, he used to exhale the beginning of his explanation, which I was owed.

"I am not going to lie to you, Aniyah. This, could get us both, into a lot of trouble."

That piqued my interest and I nudged his back, since he refused to look at me, urging him to continue. Then he raised his hand to grasp the silver handle of the door, and with a creak it opened inch by inch, enough for me to fit through the gap, as Orist remained at the doorframe.

"best you go ahead of me, and discover it for yourself."

I was suspicious of him, and gazed into the room now open to me, which was larger than my own but maintained the same general autumnal colour scheme that echoed throughout the stronghold, and cautiously, I stepped inside.

it was more like a storage room than anything else, with chests upon chests piled up on top of each other. A sconce burned dully, and there were some heavy fabrics draped on the floor, and I picked up the edge of one and found that the white fabric was infused with fine filigree stitching, and I followed the lines as they weaved and happened on a long tare in the material, like it had been ripped by someone, and as I eyed the others, they shared a similar state.

"are these dresses?" I asked Orist and he nodded.

Why would there be a bunch of ripped dresses up here? among other things, for as I took a turn about the room, some things I couldn't help but take notice of as they were unburied by the rest of the clutter, such as a hairbrush, mirror, even shoes to match the gowns, and I stopped at the rocking chair centred in the room, tipping it back as I leaned on it.

"why do I get the feeling I'm missing something?" I asked, since I thought that I might have gotten a reaction out of Orist by now, if I had divulged what he wanted by bringing me here, but instead he remained stuck at the door frame.

I was at the point of giving up, and then out of nowhere a queer sound reached my ears and I had to wait for it again, to assure myself that I had not imagined it.

As the whining carried on, it led me to a corner where an obnoxious wardrobe was obscuring another piece of furniture covered by a canopy.

"Orist."

I knew he wouldn't do anything to guide me any, but saying his name, and seeing he was still with me helped validate that this was not a dream, and as I swallowed back my total shock, I pulled back the chiffon and beheld, what I anticipated to be there.

The object I loomed over; it was a very old oaken cradle and with no mattress, apart from a pile of blankets, there was a face returning my wide eyed fascination.

"Orist, there is a baby in here!"

At some point my elder had creeped in to join me and stood by my side, and I could see now that it was guilt that had kept him silent, as he waited on me to judge him for harbouring this little thing alone behind a locked door, but sense did not place blame on the servant, only his master, for the infant, was a complete and utter mirror image of its father.

The silver head and dazzling blue eyes, as well as the ethereal beauty of the sindar elves.

This child, belonged to king Thranduil, and there was no mistaking it.

Wriggling, I was still frozen in place, but Orist lowered down a finger and the little one grasped a hold of it, making the man smile.

"not long ago, King Thranduil loved another; but how much of his love was because of her beauty and otherworldliness I wonder? In any case, she did not share the same passion for Thranduil as he did her, and married him for the sake of tradition, as it was expected that a sindar elf marry another of their like, and they are few as you know. However, she did not wish to remain in middle earth, nor had it ever been her intention, and with her new husband she had expected him to join her as she travelled to the undying lands, as if it was his duty to do so."

He stopped in his tale to let what he had told me sink in, before continuing.

"Thranduil was a king, it would have been impossible for him to abandon his people, even if he had wanted to go with her, and although he thought he might convince her to stay, she without hesitation or care, went without her husband, and without her child, as soon as she was able to walk after his birth."

"…She abandoned them?"

He did not dignify me with an answer as it was clear to see that was the unfortunate case in his story and I looked around me at what I now knew to be her belongings.

"we are forbidden to speak her name, and I shall not for the devastation she has caused, and any little reminder was locked away, that which Thranduil had not burned or destroyed first that is. Her existence, didn't even make it beyond the gates, for I am sure you probably have never heard of the king wedding."

News from our sovereign hardly ever reached our ears in the village, and judging by the tender age this baby must be, a year or so at most, it was a fairly recent tragedy that had transpired, and wasn't as if it might be that his marriage was forgotten over time.

"that was her doing of course, not wanting a spectacle of a wedding, since she had not intended to stay long enough to revel in it. Even her pregnancy was carefully kept a secret from the rest of the servants, as she concealed herself within her chambers, and all the while her husband begged her to stay."

That last part pinched my heart and I looked at the blue eyed babe shrouded by innocence, despite the harshness of its mother. Only, he did not act the way I thought babies usually do. As I said before, I was the last babe to be born in my village, so I had never seen or held one before, but judging by what Myrin and Elyan had told me, there was a certain behaviour that went with being a child as young as this, and yet the one I beheld now hardly moved at all.

I looked harder at his form and it was rather skinny I thought, same as his flesh did not glow with a healthy sheen. It somehow appeared ashen, like there was no spark of life in him, and then I remembered those lonely cries I had heard last night.

The ones that had brought me to tears.

"when you say, that Thranduil shunned all that reminded him of her-"

I tore my gaze from the babe and Orist was solemn, with his lips a thin line, confirming what I thought was the case where the baby was concerned.

"sadly yes; that included this young fellow also, for he has never been outside this very room."

Although I hadn't known that the child existed until now, I felt a stab of guilt over the audacity of my believing that my stay here was confined. At least I could say that I have seen the blue skies and changing seasons; that I have felt rain on my skin, and the sun beating down.

At least I could say that for however short period of a time, that I had lived, while this one here has never been given the chance.

"Who cares for him?" I choked out through my emotions, which caused my body to shake slightly and as quickly as they appeared I wiped away the tears to run down my cheeks.

"Myself and Reave are the only two who know he exists, and we take it in turns to sneak away and do what's needed, but it's hardly the attention a baby deserves, he barely cries from hunger now, knowing there is no one who will answer him and when he does cry, as you have heard yourself, it is because he is..."

"sad," I finished for the elf.

Running my hands over my face, I tried the best I could to compose myself, and straightened myself out, trying hard not to make my voice quake as we got down to things.

"that's why you have brought me here, isn't it? You want me to be the one to look after him."

I hadn't meant for it to sound like an unwanted hassle, I just wanted answers, but Orist took it as such.

"Aniyah," his tone was stern, "I fear for what will happen to him if things continue as they are."

I could tell then that he cared for the child, and didn't want to pass off the duty of the infants care as if he wanted relief from the burden. Orist just didn't know what he was doing on top of running pretty much the up keep of the entire kingdom, and Reave wasn't much better, so my opinion of them had not faltered in the slightest. In fact, I actually commended them to have gotten as far as they have.

I toyed with the toe of my shoes against the floorboards, as I asked the hopeless question, "have you tried speaking to Thranduil?", expecting Orist to snort, but he surprised me by adapting an expression of empathy in a way.

"have you ever had your heart broken? Well it changes you, and for Thranduil that meant for the worse, thus he will not listen and you must realise that now."

I thought back on the throws of despair Myrin had given herself up to at the mere thought of having to abandon Garrick, when we thought we were going to have to run for our lives after our fathers 'execution'. I could visibly see a part of her breaking, which was why I took her place to be here, as it would have been as if she too had died with our father, if things had been as we had thought them to be.

And relating her pain with the Kings; I was somehow able to understand him a little better, since he was not ruthless for the sake of it, and had once been different.

Open even, to the thought of love.

And if he had been that way before, it gave me reason to believe, that he could be that way again.

And then I was suddenly bright with the idea, that maybe, I could heal the relationship between father and son, and in doing so, heal the kingdom.

The specifics into how I was going to do that were unclear; but I was giddy with the inspiration.

Taking a deep breath, I smiled at Orist and reached down into the cradle, slowly slipping my hands beneath the baby for support, as I lifted him up to me.

At first he looked baffled, his eyes widening, and brows rising, unused to such close contact and I held him so his face was in line with mine, his nose inches away.

It was like he was evaluating me, and I him. We two coming to grips with each other, now that we were going to be spending a lot of time in each other's company, and suddenly he burst into a smile, reaching out his arms for me with such force, that he bumped my face with his fist, and he giggled at my reaction making him repeat it and the louder his laugh got, the more Orist and myself joined in, on this wonder.

As we all calmed down, I lay him down more comfortable into my arm, rocking him side to side, while the other instinctively stroked his golden head.

"what is his name?" I cooed, like he would answer me instead of Orist, who shrugged.

"we just call him little prince."

I winced from the babe having gone without a name this long, and pondered on something I had not told anyone, and spoke it out loud like a story for him.

"you know, I never had dreams of children, that was always my sister. But had I a son of my own one day, though it's now impossible considering my future to remain here, the name Legolas always stood out to me."

The child gave another chuckle and happy whine, and it warmed my heart as it was so different a character in him that I had known when first entering the room and saw him lying limply in his bed, and I don't know what made me do it, but I rubbed my nose against his.

"do you like that sweet babe?"

For a moment I had forgotten that Orist was in the room when he spoke.

"it suits him."

And when I took my gaze off who was now Legolas, I blushed from how proud Orist seemed to be of the pair of us, and himself also for his plan having come together, like a weight was taken off his shoulders. But his warning before my entering into the room played on my nerves and how no one was to know of the baby.

"if this is to be my duty from now on," I asked "what are you going to tell the others?"

Orist winked, "don't you worry about that, but I ask that you must be discreet about this. Not even the king should find out. Are we understood?"

I nodded, giving no clue as to why I did accept to do this, but secretly I promised Legolas, that he will see all that I have, the blue of the skies, the changing seasons; the feel of the rain on his skin, and the sun beating down on him.

I leaned closer into his ear, _"_ _I promise, Legolas, you will live."_


	8. Chapter 8

_My dearest papa and Myrin_

 _There is no lack of work here in the palace, which is good since it makes the time go faster, and I don't worry about how you both are faring without me, so much. I do hope you have come into yourself again papa, since truly, you are without blame for what has happened. I need you to go out on those adventures of yours and not be afraid to do so. Think of it as you living them out on my behalf as well, so that I will have something enjoyable to read when you write to me._

 _Climb a mountain, and describe the site you see from up there, so that I will be able to see it too when I close my eyes, and the feeling you have as you stand and just bask at the beautiful view._

 _I want to hear about it all._

 _And then Myrin; I know we didn't get the chance to say goodbye, well not one you were awake to hear, but it was just my turn to help and look out for you, instead of it being constantly in reverse._

 _I'm not a child anymore, and with me gone, I don't want you to feel you can't do anything because of my sake. The same with papa, I don't want you to carry any guilt._

 _That means, if it hasn't happened already, as soon as this letter is done with, set it down, march on over to Garrick and ask him to marry you. We elves live an awful long time, so live life the best you can, without regret._

 _Be happy, because there is no one who deserves it more._

 _I mean what I say, and despite it all, I am not unhappy._

 _These few days, I have gained friendship, and found something which to laugh and smile with, and I suppose besides you two, there is only one thing I miss._

 _And that's the forest._

 _Its smell, the sound of the breeze rustling the leaves, and how it seems you are in a whole other world…_

The quill stopped as I imagined the place I spoke of. Somewhere that was more a home to me, than that stone house which was a copy of all the others in the village, and what sparks in me a fire to burn.

Since the baby is most active at night, due to that being when Reave and Orist could see to him, I had spent this morning dreaming, with Legolas in my arms, of the wind calling my name, leading me there.

How my legs had run like the river, as I could stand no longer, not to be beneath the green canopied trees.

Wild, strong; the forest was my religion.

A sacred connection I could not explain when I would brace my hand against the bark or to the ground, thinking the same no matter what.

'that to the wilderness is where I belonged.'

I had thought nothing could come between that, but I feel the bond severed now in the palace, proving that I had been wrong, and I wondered if I would forget in time, that which had spoken to me, more than words ever could.

That exhilaration that pierced through my core, when I stopped to embrace the energy pulsating all around, my memory could still make my heart beat faster, and so could my dreams, but what would happen, when I eventually did not have that to rely on…

A gurgle interrupted my thoughts, and I snapped up my head, to see my littlest elf rolling around in a dusty silk fabric, peering out at me with pure amusement.

I couldn't help but giggle at his antics, and reached out my quill to tickle his button nose with the feather, which he laughed hysterically at and anticipated my repeating it again and again.

After the tenth time, I don't think either of us had gotten any less amused by this, but I had to stop sooner or later, and stuttered past a lingering chuckle, "Legolas, I have to finish this before Orist comes to collect it."

His bottom lip puckered into a pout, displeased not to be the centre of attention and he grabbed for the object while I scribbled a quick ending, making a dash of ink cut across the paper.

Admittedly, this was my mistake to be writing on the floor with a curious baby crawling about, but I raised a brow, "you know, that isn't any way to act when you don't get your own way, mister."

Of course he didn't have a clue what I was saying, so my scolding went right over his head, the same as the fabric he had returned to, while practicing my game I had taught him earlier of peek-a-boo.

I sighed, knowing I risked being a push over when it came to Legolas, when I found everything he did, absolutely endearing, and after sealing my letter to my family in its envelope, I turned onto my back.

Apparently, my position then posed as an appealing seat, when his tiny form, climbed up on top of me, and urged the arm I had covering my eyes, away for him to see me.

His beautiful face inches away from me, and those blue irises gleaming, I stroked those chubby full cheeks.

"you have me wrapped around your finger, don't you?"

His gummy smile was Legolas's reply, and I grasped the other cheek, to make an obscene sound as I blew into one, and he was howling with joy, when Orist finally entered into the room.

…

Thranduil had expected for a letter to have come from Aniyah before now.

His patience had been wearing thin, believing Orist to have been trying to elude him of the command his king had given, to be the first to read her writing, before they were sent forward to the intended receiver.

However, as he started from the first sentence and worked down to the very last, before she had signed her name, it became clear to Thranduil, that his new servant hadn't wanted to write to her family until she was comfortable she could do so, without making them worry, when her first days no doubt would have been too difficult emotionally to tell them about, when as her close kin, they would be able to tell when she lied.

This letter rung with truth then, and sentiment also for the life she did understandably miss, and what stuck out most to the elven king, was the obvious longing for the forest.

He could sense her strong feelings emanating from the page, though she said little about it and had thus, rushed to finish her ending, and from her doing so, it somehow reminded Thranduil of his own…ties over the realm he ruled.

Ties which toyed with him now and again, before he quickly made himself numb to them, in effort to convince himself, that the woodland was just his excuse to wear a crown, and gain authority through it and the inhabitants.

Only…

The purity in the forest being untouched by man, as it remained how it has always been since the dawning of middle earth; it would make him a poorer elf than he already was for other deeds he has committed, to say that the sight of it lain out before him, did not still stir his heart.

He in his youth had always thought himself a glorified guardian, when there must in his eyes be mightier spirits that made a kingdom such as the woodland thrive.

The forest; it had frightened him, and it had brought him to his knees, for a reason besides fear, but divine devotion, after he learnt not to be so intimidated by it, and instead embrace what he had the honour to be a part of.

Thranduil did not leave his palace, true.

However, he was not cut off from the forest as completely, as Aniyah thought herself to be.

Thranduil smiled, and summoned again the guilt ridden elf, Orist, into his chambers, having warned him not to venture further than his door.

Arms behind his back, and chin bowed down to his chest, Orist had not wanted his king to have this letter, although without much choice, he had given it up, and would continue to do so with all the rest that followed after.

It was clear that Orist wanted to do no more than this, while an instrument in Thranduil's schemes surrounding the girl, he was evidently fond of, so as not to betray her of the friendship he knew she bestowed on him, any more than he has done already.

It was endearing to Thranduil, Orist's loyalty he bared for Aniyah, though he had a funny way of showing it, and his ability to figure out this much from looking at his servant, made it impossible for Thranduil not to act against his wishes to be excluded from any deed further than the letters.

Orist was a short elf, with Thranduil towering above him to cast the grim elf in shadow, and the king whispered, "have Aniyah bring me my dinner this evening."

Orist's eyes flashed up at the kings, and then around at his room, where the bed was, making assumptions, that were somewhat on the right track considering the deal Thranduil had made with his vile cousin, and he grinned.

"but not here of course."

Relief washed over the servant, making his lips fuller in place of the thin line he had hardened them into, and Thranduil let candle light touch his figure again, going to his mirror and examining his wardrobe.

"Instead," he started, while straightening his brooch, "have her bring my plate to the east wing."

His reflection smiled, when Orist's did not, and he quickly left the kings presence, without audibly obliging to his instruction, but unable to refuse his king either.

Alone, Thranduil glimpsed down at the letter again.

"Caladwen, prepare for your departure. For you shall have another man, whether you like it or not, to leech off of, now."

….

I did not like putting Legolas to sleep in that damn cradle when he has spent so long in it already, and I did expect him to wake soon, from this brief nap, which I had tired him into after playing numerous games, along with the odd story, meal and wash.

However, with the return of Orist with an order from the king, I could not conjure a valuable excuse to refuse Thranduil of his odd request, when there were so many other servants that could do as he has asked of me.

I was suspicious, that perhaps he might have sensed something going on concerning the son he wishes no one to know about, but to be as subtle as this, if he were planning to confront me, was not how Thranduil would go about things.

"Aniyah?"

Orist had the kings plate already in hand.

A simple meal of sliced meat and vegetables, to save me from going down to the kitchens, which I was thankful for, when it meant it lessened the time I was away from Legolas while he took his nap, and the more I just stalled the inevitable of my complying with Thranduil's wish, the more that saved time would be in vain, when Legolas would be awake to see me leave, when for now he would not know the difference.

"oh very well," I sighed, ensuring the babes lids were still closed as I passed him over to Orist, instead of that accursed cradle, "but you must stay with him until I come back, okay?"

Two days, that is all it has been since Orist made my introduction to this little fellow, and he was gladdened by my attachment to him.

"that won't be an issue."

I nodded, more to urge myself to make the swap, and cautiously we did when I now held Thranduil's measly dinner, and not the warmth of his slumbering child.

I was hesitant to leave.

"his head, Orist; make sure you support it."

I moved his hand to do just that, but didn't make it very far before I had something else to tell the elf.

"oh, and try to hum…a sound to break the silence; it seems to comfort him, I've found."

Purely by coincidence too, when I had caught him, while sleeping, smiling as I softly sung the tune of a lullaby Myrin used to sing to me, testing if it were that which made him respond that way, when I would stop and carry on again, making him stop smiling, and then continue to do so in timing with me singing.

"Aniyah, he will be alright. Now go," Orist insisted.

I realised he was right, and quickly left the room I had been in since Orist had first led me too it, and recalled the path to get to somewhere I was more familiar with, so that I could make the directions, Orist had given me in order to get to the east wing, a place that on my arrival, he had warned me never to venture, when no servant, besides himself, was aloud there.

I didn't know why this was the case, as there wasn't anything that made it different to the rest of the stronghold, except the neglect of servants showing in a coating of dust.

I suppose coming here demonstrated the sheer width of the place, rather than the height, with my feet having climbed many stairs before now, when this section, required me to take no higher level than the one I was on.

I was familiar enough with the air Thranduil created, to sense when he was near, and rounding a corner, so was he strewn on a bench.

His leg cocked up, his velvet robe streamed with shades of purple and was oversized to make its mass so much more than your average garment, and it was pinned with a green jewel at the centre of his torso, to keep it together, but as I scrutinised him more, I was shocked to notice, that he wore nothing underneath it.

That his bare chest, was much more visible and I actually blushed, trying to peek at how well he was sculpted, without my realising that I was in fact doing just that.

I shook my head, and cleared my throat gaining his attention, though something told me he knew already I was there with him, and had chosen not to acknowledge me yet.

"your dinner your majesty."

Goodness, did my voice not sound dry, and I licked my lips as I settled the plate down on a table, wanting to leave now that I had done that, anticipating my return to Legolas, hoping he was not awake yet; but of course, Thranduil had asked pacifically for me to do this for a reason, and my escape would not be as simple as this.

"Aniyah," swiftly he sat upright, "would you stay a moment, please."

His clothes were not creased.

His hair was just as smooth.

Truth be told, it was possible that Thranduil could stand in the midst of a hurricane, and still look as impeccable as he does now, sitting before me like one of his intricately carved statues, I had admired when lighting candles with Teeva.

But being that he was something of flesh, it made Thranduil much more enticing…

My gaze flitted to his chest again, and a tingling slowly spread throughout my body, making my breath catch at the back of my throat.

 _'_ _was there ever a man so striking?'_

I was aware that I was gawking, like an awe struck child who dreamed of princes, or rather kings, like Thranduil, and yet, I didn't care.

I wanted to discover a flaw in his appearance, and while doing so, I unexpectedly had my mind invaded by his cousin, Caladwen.

 _"_ _that is why, I think I must warn you Aniyah. My cousin values control, above all else. And if he does not have it, he will bend, if not break you"_

I coward then from my blatant staring.

Would an opulent elf, not endeavour to show off his riches by stripping down a layer of clothing, if it weren't for the fact, he had an alternative motive?

his blue, blue eyes, that were like his sons; they lacked Legolas's innocence.

Upon our first meeting, they had been like a predator capturing its prey, but now that I had discovered more about this king, it was hard not to see the blue of his irises being like the sea that I knew sorrow had sailed, with the shedding of tears acting as a storm, so that come the moment everything was still and quiet, the sole part which survived in Thranduil; was the part that wanted to salvage strength no matter the cost.

And I pitied him, rather than being disappointed in how he chose to retaliate after his wife's uncaring departure, and wanted to heal him, if I could. But I would have to pace myself in doing that, if what Caladwen insinuated was correct, when he did little to prove otherwise now.

I couldn't allow him to bend me to his will, when in the wake of that, he would not respect me enough for my plan to work, and both he and Legolas, will remain in the cold dark, while I became just another of his trophies, until the next challenge presented itself to him; so I excused myself.

"Reave, is probably expecting me your majesty. I shouldn't keep her waiting."

I wanted to run, not trusting where this situation would lead me, only Thranduil had a firm grasp on my arm, the instant I turned away, and I gasped at how quick he must have moved.

His grip loosened, and slipped less possessively to my wrist, "Please, I have something I wish to show you."

I didn't trust myself to speak, and stiffly agreed, with the mystery causing my blood to run cold.

 _'_ _what was happening!'_

To Thranduil, I might seem as quiet as a crypt.

A block of ice he was dragging behind him, made that way by my fear of emotion and the complexity of my trying to understand what Thranduil had in store where I was concerned.

I knew him better than he knew I did.

He; did not know me at all.

At least, that is was I had thought; until Thranduil stepped aside and let go of my wrist.

And when he did so, my body was wracked with a powerful surge of joy, to see an expansion of a starry meadow, with a moon brightening the land below, replacing the sun.

A suckered in a cold wind, seeing the tree tops ripple with its current; And at last, there was no barrier, between myself and the world.

And like a maddened fanatic, I hurtled towards it, uncomprehending where there was a precipice to make me plunder to an ill fate, until Thranduil prevented such a thing from happening, and had, not my wrist this time, but a strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me against that bare chest.

"Are you afraid of me?"

I was shuddering, but not because of him, and yet I did not say as much, and spoke true, keeping my gaze locked on the wonder before me.

"I'd be a fool not to be."

My breath grew more haggard to be reunited with a love as prominent in my character as the wilderness again, and in being so enraptured by it, I did not notice the king pressing his face against my dark tresses, and savouring my scent.

Nor could I feel his hand, trailing up to my breast.

However, when for a second time he tore me away from the outdoors, the deed was too deep a wound for me not to notice, and he worsened it by crushing his lips against mine, as an attempt at initiating a ravenous kiss. Only, it did not inspire me in the least, and due to my anger, I gained enough power in my arms to push him away, and take a step further to sting his cheek, when I slapped him, which twisted his head to the side.

He thought to seduce me, by my showing gratitude to his kindness by acting on his desire for me, since he had given me, a desire of my own.

But he has now soiled this pleasant view and I couldn't help but hate him, now more than ever, for doing that to me.

" **you are a horrible man,"** I spat, when his cheek was still turned away.

 **"** **horrible!** "

…..

Aniyah wiped her mouth clean of Thranduil's kiss and stormed away, reeling from this sense of violation.

Her shoes, they clicked across the floor, and faded from ear shot, and still Thranduil's head was left where she had struck him.

He was not well accustomed to physical pain, besides during darker ages, when there had been war to ravage the world, for it was then he had tasted fire and the pinch of a sword, yet carried on fighting all the same in spite of his injuries.

However; a simple slap…

Thranduil touched the tender spot, able to trace her handprint due to how hot it made his pale complexion burn, and he was stunned by her sheer audacity.

Stunned…and angry.

Slow; and then all at once, he wreaked havoc on the room he had been in when Aniyah had found him, finding relief by shouting out, and tossing his evening meal, with a clang, against a far wall.

It didn't help his cheek any though.

And nor his pride, and his infliction had one remedy he could think of, and Thranduil made for his accursed chambers, ordering to anyone that heard:

"Wine, bring me wine, more wine; damn you all!"

Burning up, he discarded his heavy robe he had chosen with another person in mind, to remove it for him, and he caught himself in the mirror he'd admired himself in before leaving, and at the elf in the glass, he called him a fool.

Aniyah was smarter than a mere simple minded girl, who hungered the smallest amount of attention, having dreamed of passion like his kiss might have tempted her to, had she not pulled away.

Her dreams did not crave a husband, or an elven man to satisfy her life. And so Thranduil had underestimated her, and he could not say for sure if he was angry at Aniyah for denying him, or at himself for believing her to be such easy prey.

could it be that he was ashamed of his actions?

He didn't have long to ponder over it, when Caladwen snaked her way in through the door, and he audibly hissed at her with such a greeting being instinctive where she was concerned.

Caladwen chose to ignore it though, probably used to such a welcome as that, and creased her fair brows together, as she rushed over to him.

"Thranduil, what on earth is the matter?"

The cold hearted wench placed a hand on his naked back and he flinched from the contact, always unnerved by her long skinny fingers and fell onto his chair panting, willing her to just go and leave him be for once.

Only she pressed on being her usual unwelcomed nuisance.

"Oh that girl is too naïve," she cooed, "to comprehend a man's vigour such as yours."

Thranduil glared at his cousin menacingly, knowing she must have been watching him with Aniyah to say what she had, and the idea of her lurking in every corner of wherever it is he might be, was a smothering, tyrannical oppression, like he was a mouse, trapped in the coils of her serpent tail.

"why not give in Thranduil; give in to me…"

The offer of rotting in the pit of a Trolls belly, over sharing a bed with Caladwen, was far more tempting.

Her dress cropped to leave her shoulders bare, and a neckline, that didn't leave much to the imagination; she was playing Thranduil at his own game and he smirked to be in place of Aniyah, who must have regarded him then, much like he did his cousin now, and so Thranduil came to understand the reason behind her slap, and cursed not being able to bestow Caladwen with one.

"…More wine!" he cried.

"Give in to me!"

Caladwen bordered on insanity now, her eyes wide as if severe concentration and sheer will could bewitch Thranduil into submitting to her, "I am far better than any wine."

There was lacing which was interwoven at the front of her dress's bodice to keep the garment together, and Caladwen went to loosen the binding, and allow for the fabric to part, had Thranduil not stopped her.

His hold on her arm must have been painful, when he unintentionally squeezed it to mimic the smothering she instilled within him, but Caladwen did little to show if it did hurt and she gasped to savour his touch, as twisted as she was.

"I have nineteen days to get the girl in my bed! Why hasten the chase, when there is not much fun in doing so?"

She did not look pleased with his answer, and Thranduil tossed her arm away harshly, so it smacked into her body.

"now, if you don't mind; have a servant bring me that wine I've been asking for! And best you stay away less you bitter its taste!"

…

By what right did he think he could treat me thus!

As if my lips were there for his benefit, and not for me to speak with!

Had I in some other world, reciprocated that embrace, I would certainly be little more than flesh to Thranduil, with no consciousness within, as he believed my body to be his property, when he had me enslaved already.

I was mad.

Truly, I don't think rage such as this, has ever consumed me as it did now.

And I had been warned. Warned of his intentions, and the more I dwelled on that fact, his kiss burned my mouth, doing little to settle my anger, and what's worse; that had actually been my first kiss.

As headstrong as I strived to be, I was still a woman.

No dreams of princes, or true love as I have said already; but I've heard enough stories to be under the impression, that things which follow in the line of, perhaps romance, passion…whatever you might wish to call it, should at least be special.

My sister's I had overheard her say to one of her friends, when they were younger, happened beneath an apple tree, during the beginning of a snowfall, with the man she still loved to this day.

Myself, being much younger, to kiss a boy rather than push their head in the dirt, as relationships between children usually are in those early stages, it made for her words to sound strange, indeed. But damn, if I didn't think after the initial surprise, how sweet that sounded.

I had never thought much more on the issue after that; however now, I would do anything for a childhood kiss, beneath a tree, since my 'special' moment as they called it, lacked any sentimentality seeing as it was forced; not to mention, that wandering hand of his.

To be honest, I didn't know why I was so angry.

Was it because a moment breathing in fresh air, made me lose my wits, and Thranduil took advantage of my dropping my guard?

Or, more ashamedly; was it because of How, he had kissed me?

If he were more tender, subtle; had built up to it…

Would I have struck him, and would I be as I am now?

So many questions, thoughts, and what ifs;

So much of Thranduil, making me contradict the person I have been since birth…

None of this helped my mood improve any, but I did know of one remedy…

The chaos that amounted in my head, it made it so that my surroundings had melted away, and I didn't know one step to the next, when suddenly I was bursting into a hectic storage room, that passed for a nursery.

Inside, Orist was red cheeked and dishevelled, and I wondered if it was Legolas who had pulled at his hair, or the elf himself out of frustration of not knowing what to do, alone with a howling babe.

"oh thank goodness!"

Relief at seeing me was enough that he didn't take notice of my own flushed appearance, and Orist eagerly offered me the squirming form, he was struggling to keep a hold of.

"here Aniyah, he has not stopped crying since he realised you were gone."

The flick of his fingers over Legolas, somewhat indicated a loss for what was wrong; that the child may in fact just be broken, as if he were an object, and I rolled my eyes wondering how Legolas has managed to last this long, without me.

I ignored Orist, who looked like he needed a drink, and spoke softly, "Legolas, hey what's all this about?"

His features contorting with each cry, the babe hadn't seen me yet and was blinking furiously for his vision to clear and the more it did, and my face could be mistaken for no one else's, so did his cries lessen to a woeful gurgle.

I had feared that this would happen before I had left him, and I was saddened that it did, like I had betrayed Legolas of a change, and yet still, a new familiarity, which he had grown fond of.

"I'm sorry sweet one," he deserved the apology, although he couldn't understand it, and I pressed him into the crook of my neck, having discovered he were a perfect fit there.

I rocked him to and fro, speaking between lulls, so he could find comfort in the sound of a calming voice, compared to the frantic pleads I do not doubt Orist had in vain been showering him with.

"did you fear that I had gone for good? Such a fear for one so young to have, hmm?"

A few sniffles then and there, and I withdrew Legolas from my neck to smile warmly at him, though I became more firm in ending his crying.

"calm yourself now, I am here; I am here."

I patted his back slowly and often, while his bright crystal irises bored into me, dreading that should he blink, I would disappear again, and I could tell that I won't be going anywhere without Legolas anytime soon, or be moving an inch away from him either.

And in retrospect of what transpired when we were separated, I couldn't say that I was practically in any rush to leave him.

showing off those pearly white teeth of his, beyond those rosy lips, there was hardly any evidence left of the state he had gotten himself into, and I triumphantly perched Legolas on my hip, when my work was done, and he beamed at Orist, who he had just been tormenting.

He flattened his ruffled blunt locks to curtain down smoothly, just to his chin, and puffed out a breath he must have been holding.

Cautiously he held out a finger, taken aback by a yowl, until he realised it was a childish yowl which was all in good fun, and I giggled with Legolas, at his reaction.

"that's a skill that," the elf commented, while his finger was being gently suckled on, "a skill."

I shrugged as I wiped off the moisture on Legolas's face, some of it more thick and unsavoury.

"is it strange to say, that I don't put much thought into it? That Legolas's care borders on something like instinct."

Orist shook his head, distasteful of having Legolas's saliva soaking his chewed finger, to which I signalled he might as well wipe on my other sleeve, since I already had a fine collection of stains on the green velvet.

"something the woman who spawned him lacked."

I didn't want to talk or even mention her in front of the babe, which was a hard thing considering her belongings filled the room.

It was hard to move about and I kicked a trunk nearest to me, "Orist, I want to clean this place out, and make it a proper bedroom for Legolas."

He sighed, "I know what you mean; it won't do the boy any good, to be reminded throughout his adolescence, of the woman who abandoned him."

I grazed my mouth over his forehead, with that milky scent unique to a babe clinging to him.

What I found I shared in common with Orist, and most likely Reave too, is that we never regarded that woman by her name, and nor do we call her out loud his mother, when she wasn't.

It took more than giving birth to deserve that title.

My own mother for example; did she not love her child, more than she did her own life, in order to save her daughters, so that she could live long and happy.

'that' woman, did the exact opposite, and valued herself above those she should have loved unconditionally.

Legolas might ask about her one day, but not until he was ready I'm sure. So I didn't want to throw her absence in his face, nor the fact that she was in that quick of a state to be gone, that she didn't even bother to pack up her things.

"we'd, probably have to burn all this in that case. Like I had done with the rubbish you wanted disposed of down in the wine cellar."

I didn't see a problem in that, because of how no one had noticed a fire before, due to Orist's authority and approval, but in this case, he would have to do it himself.

"but what about those things made from silver or any jewels?" I asked, just as one glinted in the candle light.

Orist quirked a brow at me, "have you not noticed there's not much of that about? And the small number will continue to lessen-"

I was confused, gazing about to see that indeed a visible hand mirror was gone from the clutter and perhaps some other things too.

"Caladwen," he explained, lifting a simple necklace, "the king's cousin; she's like a thieving magpie. Enjoying to wear 'her' jewels, as if she was the one they were originally intended for. I can entice her to take them all if you'd like?"

"you mean; she knows about Legolas?"

I had the gall to be shocked, when I shouldn't be judging by the impression I had of her when we had met.

Dressed like royalty, living off Thranduil's charity… I wish I could have said to her, more like living off his wife's scraps.

That might have knocked her self-worth down a couple of notches.

It was a spiteful thought, but she had proven not to have much morals, if she rather material goods such as silver and jewels, over taking guardianship at least over this sweet thing, that was warm and living flesh.

"yes, and she hates him, for being the child of her then rival."

I had suspected Caladwen had deeper feelings for Thranduil than she was letting on, during the time she wanted to warn me of his character, when warning and threat, seemed to be one in the same on that occasion I was in her presence. But hate for a child was too strong a word surely, and yet it probably fit her feelings for Legolas, rather well, and I clutched the babe closer, shaking my head.

"you know Orist; I'm done with dwelling on the past. So let's just get on with the future, shall we?"

My elder seemed relieved and since it was night, and no one was awake to see him, as he made for the outdoors, he picked up the first trunk of dresses, to burn.

"yes miss Aniyah, let's do that."

 **…**

 **If Thranduil and Aniyah's actions after the kiss are familiar in the way they are written, I had hoped that they would appear that way when read, since I intended that they mirror each other; why it is I did that, is up to you… xxx**


End file.
